My power is flickering. There's only slight winds, no storm, none that I know about. FREAKY.
Natter 48 Contiguous States of Denial
Off-topic discussion. Wanna talk about corsets, duct tape, or physics? This is the place. Detailed discussion of any current-season TV must be whitefonted.
I don't think even the epitome of chicken marsala would be my favorite meal.
What's wrong with you?
Freak.
What's wrong with you?
Freak.
Uh huh.
Cash, thank you! I'd forgotten how I loved that book. (What can I say, I spent the time not reading inappropriate stuff on a serious pioneer and native kick. I viscerally remember driving from the Grand Canyon, window open, wind blowing my braids, imagining myself a cliff dweller. Which is funny, and yet... I still get chills visiting those places, wondering. And now being grateful for my internet and women's lib!)
Huh. I had chicken marsala the other day and I don't remember it being noticably sweet. Is it normally?
Betsy, do we need equipment for that?
I'm going with the massed power of bitterness, cynicism, and despair.
There exists sweet marsala and dry marsala. You have to pick your marsala carefully.
If you could just beam the bitterness, cynicism, and despair, I think that should do the trick nicely. I'm happy to beam any minimal sinus headaches I should happen to get, if it's any help. You know, to the nation.
Also, I don't think of chicken marsala as sweet, but I love, love it.
Goddamn, I'm going to have to order it again, aren't I?
Jennifer Crusie wins again.