If you'll walk across my camera
Day before yesterday: I shoveled a lot of snow. I watched some classic Law & Order. I did my job. It was kind of a nothing day until I crashed unexpectedly in the evening and had to spend most of the night shooing Tiny Wittgenstein off the fruit bowl.
Yesterday: I got up, I did some more sorting of depressing papers, and then the day converted itself into awesome, because I met
rushthatspeaks at Rodney's in Central Square and from there we discovered the Atomic Bean Café (which has lettering so artistic as to be nearly illegible, but they make a fine pistachio muffin), braved the unfamiliar buses of Somerville (I went to Sullivan Square once by accident and I don't want to do it again), and met up with
gaudior at their new place (which turns out to be in an area I know quite well, I just didn't recognize it from the other end of the street). Fentiman's rose lemonade is absolutely astonishing, intensely rose-flavored without tasting like either a bath soap or those brittle candy flowers you get on certain cakes. It is a good thing I do not live around the corner from Hub Comics, because they have couches and the giant Winsor McCay. And I wound up the evening with
derspatchel at Greek Corner on Mass. Ave. and a ten o'clock showing of From Russia with Love (1963) at the Somerville Theatre, and it is rather an understatement to say he's better company than T. Witt.
Then of course it took me nearly forty-five minutes to get home in the increasingly thickening snow, but it was worth it.
(Did I mention that Rush and I have agreed to make a Thompson turkey? Be with us, Robert Benchley, except when we're cooking with spirits.)
Today: I am going to the Ivy+ Fine Spirits Showcase with a group of lovely people who don't have livejournals and I have no idea if you will hear from me for the rest of the day, or if it will be in English when you do. But the Guardian has a newly discovered story by Sylvia Townsend Warner. Thank you, universe.
Yesterday: I got up, I did some more sorting of depressing papers, and then the day converted itself into awesome, because I met
Then of course it took me nearly forty-five minutes to get home in the increasingly thickening snow, but it was worth it.
(Did I mention that Rush and I have agreed to make a Thompson turkey? Be with us, Robert Benchley, except when we're cooking with spirits.)
Today: I am going to the Ivy+ Fine Spirits Showcase with a group of lovely people who don't have livejournals and I have no idea if you will hear from me for the rest of the day, or if it will be in English when you do. But the Guardian has a newly discovered story by Sylvia Townsend Warner. Thank you, universe.

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It sounds as though Wittgenstein has proved a better-than-average tutelary spirit and protector. I approve.
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I think it would be advisable in this day and age to supplement the shopping list with a container of duckfat or schmalz, but other than that I say to you godspeed.
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I realize that's a bad thing, but you've made it sound utterly adorable.
Rodney's is in fact amazing. I am so glad they were able to save the place when they nearly shut down last year.
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No. No, you did not.
I am going to come to...whatever occasion you're serving this at. If I am in Heidelburg, if I am in an undisclosed location under Annex 1, if I have discovered a new dimension or given up and moved into my mother's attic, I will come. Please invite me; otherwise, I may gate-crash.
If you [pl] would remotely permit it, I should like to assist with the cooking.
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I'm glad for the yesterday converting itself into awesomeness.
The Thompson turkey sounds rather maniacal and astonishing. I wish ye luck and safety in its preparation and consumption.
I hope you have a wonderful time at the Showcase.
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I love that this recipe has a manuscript tradition.
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Friends, they may think it's a movement . . .
It sounds as though Wittgenstein has proved a better-than-average tutelary spirit and protector. I approve.
Today was also good. It involved a lot of alcohol and a lot of conversation, both interesting. I could get used to this again.
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What, that you'll enlist them to help make it?
I think it would be advisable in this day and age to supplement the shopping list with a container of duckfat or schmalz, but other than that I say to you godspeed.
If we could find an actual butcher, I suspect we'd be all right. Otherwise, yeah. I'll never say no to duck.
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Thank you. I do kind of wish I could draw that.
Rodney's is in fact amazing. I am so glad they were able to save the place when they nearly shut down last year.
Yes. I wish I had more opportunity to be in Central Square without making a trip of it. On the other hand, at least this way I'm not sinking all my money into used books.
(I miss McIntyre & Moore.)
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Consider yourself invited. The universe would probably arrange itself so as to place you at the table even if you didn't decide to come.
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I can't remember the last book I got there, unless it was the hardcover of Christopher Fry's A Sleep of Prisoners (1951) with cover art by Ronald Searle. And even if it was, that was something.
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It will probably be the craziest thing I have ever attempted for Thanksgiving, beating out even the mushroom-and-farro pie or the Zwiebelkuchen. Should we succeed, it will be awesome. Should we fail, we'll be able to dine out on the story for years.
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Well, we've got months to figure out how to do it safely . . .
I hope you have a wonderful time at the Showcase.
It was fantastic!
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Looking at "Flowers", I kept thinking of Phil Harding, the archaeologist from Time Team. I have fluff for brains, it seems.
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When I went to copy this, I accidentally set off a google search for these words. Top result: Glee fanfic. I'm sure that means something...
(Perhaps that there is a lot of fanfic on the internet, Erik?)
What I meant to say is that I hope you have the opportunity to used to it.
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(also, so I don't have to commentspam the WHOLE post, it was Steingarten and he uses 12 eggs, not 2.)
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Dude, comment-spam the post. What else is the internet for (when it's not porn)?
What if they think we're both queers and they won't take either of us?
Hee.
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Thank you! Fingers crossed.
(And the same to you.)
I kept thinking of Phil Harding, the archaeologist from Time Team. I have fluff for brains, it seems.
This happens with names. There is a particularly famous example I will think of hours from now.
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Should we succeed, it will be awesome. Should we fail, we'll be able to dine out on the story for years.
I really see no down side here.
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I will come back after I have read it.
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Possibly a whole new book of them!
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. The mincing-machine was almost right. It looked carefree, and like a Picasso. "Woman ascending scaffold," she said to herself. </>
Heh. Ascending scaffold. Excellent.