reignsdown: (Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee!)
Surfacing for air on the internet! Seems foolish, what with the whole no-air thing going on, but hey!

HOW GOES EVERYONE?
reignsdown: (Cue theme song guy)
HOW IS EVERYBODY?

ETA: Interesting tip from Food Network this morning. Freeze an onion for 20 minutes prior to cutting. This will solidify the liquids that cause the gas that cause the tears.

This would also, I imagine, lessen some of the flavour release if you use it to cook immediately. That said, if someone has a severe reaction to onion gases, a little maison plus to freeze, chop, put in a bag to thaw again would make their lives easier.

Also, I have a new cookbook! Comfort Foods. I want to try some recipes!
reignsdown: (Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee!)
Okay, so!

Family wanted me to come camp with them this weekend. Opted out, because it is the Pride Festival this weekend and I have been wanting to attend parts of it.

Reunion (10 years, high school) is August 29th and I have tentatively decided to go. Will trip out to Edmonton with 'rents (to save on hotel costs, LOL), then trip up to LLB (two hours) for the pig roast. Should things go well, I'll crash somewhere in LLB for the night, then drive back. If I feel alienated by the town and want to tell them to STFU, I book it the two hours back to Edmonton on sweet, sweet Albertan backroads. Oh, 130km/h, I love you.

Well, that'd make it significantly SHORTER than two hours, still. The shortest I ever heard anyone making it was in forty minutes. You do NOT want to know.

Back at work and life is good enough! Working on files and being productive, but distracted because ten hours days, LOL.

THAT IS THAT. How are all y'all doing??
reignsdown: (Default)
Restless. Contemplating shenanigans. Idea of sleeping tonight seems foreign.

Today, I had a close encounter of an "dog may be larger than it appears" kind. From a distance, this dog looked about the size of a normal black lab. Halfway to him, the dog looked a little bit larger than a black lab. Got to the dog and had to wonder if I'd shrunk, because he was HUGE.

And lovable.

And slobbery.

Batten down the hatches time. I have me some writing to do!

Making sense: What normal people do.
reignsdown: (Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee!)
Skewed dreams of the fucked up kind where I was in disagreement with Roy re: how to handle genetic supersoldiers (idk, man, too much Dark Angel and Saleca) and ended up on a rickety wooden structure, throwing each of them down one-by-one when they attacked and idk idk idk. Then had to convince them with fail!speech to tell their creator to fuck off and be normal, at which we all piled into a classic car and went for a drive. WHAT THE FUCK, BRAIN.

PRIDE events for 2009 have been announced locally. Parade and festival on July 11th that I'll make appearances at. Eyeing the dance that night because, hey, ten bucks in advance, but, dude, DANCE AND AUGH. Will be juvenile about it for a while, then buy a ticket regardless. SO PREDICTABLE, SELF. There are too many pretty ladies in this town to NOT go.

Watched Star Trek again last night! Have started talking like McCoy AGAIN. I'm an Alex, not a doctor, damnit!

Massage today! Can feel its necessity in my neck and shoulders.

SO HOW GOES?

ETA: As an aside, self, cutting one's self shaving is typically reserved for the area being shaved. How, pray tell, did you get THREE razor cuts on your THUMB of all places?
reignsdown: (Cue theme song guy)
Green thumbs are for skilled people. I prefer the title of black thumb, because it means people don't give you plants on the grounds that it would be considered cruelty to flora.

This year, in the vein of extremely belated new year's resolutions, I decided that it would be awesome to keep an herb garden on the balcony of my apartment, so that I'd have fresh herbs for cooking purposes at all times. Fantastic and magical sounding! And, over the past five months, I've convinced myself that this it not nearly the bad idea that it sounds, given my genocidal history with every garden that I have ever tended.

Yesterday, I picked up my herb garden from my parents' house! Father built one for me, since his parsley was overgrowing and he had a hardy oregano plant that, I suspect, he suspected could survive me. Add in basil, thyme, rosemary, and another type of basil; voila, garden! Brought it home, put it up on the balcony, fawned over it lovingly for a few minutes.

This morning? Snow.

SNOW.

SNOW IN LATE MAY. Why, Canada, Why?

The plants are cowering in a corner, huddled for warmth as the rain falls now, fearful of a plunge in temperature.

And the lesson learned? Never let Alex have a garden. It summons the apocalypse of spring.

On less of a plant-killing note: Greetings to everyone new on my list! The name is Alex and, despite its androgynous connotations, the bearer is most decidedly a woman of 27, born of the Canadian persuasion. Have danced in and out of fandoms for most of my life, currently residing in Star Trek XI and enjoying the ever living awesome of it. Full-time paper pusher, part-time aspiring novelist with one in the editing stages, a second in fledgling writing stages, and a third launched as a co-authored venture of awesome. And hungry, therefore cutting this short to go get some food.

NICE TO MEET EVERYONE!

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Alex

February 2013

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