$5 gift card to the first person who knows what that title is a reference to. And gives me their address.
My adopted twin brother has really outdone himself. He and his wife sent me a box of goodies, the thoughtfulness of which actually made me mist up. I realize that a sappy Folgers ad can also make me mist up, but that doesn’t make the feeling any less genuine. Thanks, kids!
Key Lime Pie number 3,742 (okay, #6) was created tonight, and I altered a few things all at once. For one thing, I adjusted the ingredients. Duh, I’ve been doing that all along. But this time, and here is the part Jennifer has been waiting for, I whipped the filling. Oooh, yeah. Sticks and stone may break my bones, but whisks kind of excite me. And you know, that whipping made for a beautiful filling. Thick, and with visibly more volume than my previous pies. So I figured, why not? Why not try to bake it for a mere 6–8 minutes as that one crazy recipe suggested? 8 minutes, or until a metal skewer inserted in the center pulls out clean and hot?
8 minutes: wet and cool
16 minutes: wet and cool
24 minutes: wet and less cool… um, it’s rising
32 minutes: risen to the point of cracking, I pull out the pie without bothering to skewer it.
I set it aside to cool while I make the meringue. And then have great trouble spreading meringue onto the bloated, soufflé-like pie filling which still hasn’t fallen. Turn up the heat, brown the meringue, and pop the pie in the fridge to chill. I’ll have myself a slice for breakfast, before transferring custody over to Scott.
Unrelated note: I got to see the kids over at MythBusters use a Minigun (Dillon, if you’re a gun buff but not following the link) on two different episodes tonight, and even though guns make me a little uncomfortable… this thing is HOT. No pun intended. I really, really wanna handle one of these things. Very safely, and far away from any living things. But even aimed at a dead tree, this thing is amazing. Loaded with incendiary ammo and aimed at a propane tank, even more so. Yum.
Get some!
Every woman should feel comfortable in the kitchen, in the bedroom, in the garage, and holding a gun.
Marge speaks the truth… A gun is a tool. It’s kind of a bummer that it’s mostly used to kill stuff; but then again it’s not that useful for much else… except maybe setting off dynamite from long distances.
It’s a totally rad tool for blowing up a propane tank, let me tell you.
I can’t think of anything I’d need a gun for, unless it was a 6-shooter for my hot cowgirl friend to wear in a future photo shoot. That being said, feeling comfortable with a gun never leads to good things in my opinion. I’ve handled them for years, and they still make me uncomfortable. Here’s to discomfort!
Hey Love! 24 unforgettable soul classics!
“this is a fantastic album man, let me borrow it?”
y’know you can also use a mini-gun to clear cut a jungle (see Predator).
did my comment disappear?