secret cow level

mmm, squeaky...

After about eight months plus an extra week's detour into "the problem is that the original contractors were doofii", we once again have a proper source of hot water. New Tank is actually smart enough to sort-of explain when it doesn't like something, moreover, hence the detour when the meaning of an intermittent error light turned out to be that some bright spark appears to have connected up the exhaust pipes inside the walls in such a way that the furnace was occasionally blowing into New Tank's metaphorical ear. Not an imminent danger, just very very dim of someone.

At some point during those eight months of spot-cleaning and dry shampoos, some other bright spark changed the formula of my favourite proper-shampoo, and now I have to go find another brand. Bother.

In happier news, the cats have just about arrived at a state of detente, or at least denial:

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What did that take, about two years?
BRAAAAINS

I weep for the future, part MCVII

I made the mistake of reading the recipe on the back of the Cheap Yellow Mustard this morning:


"Sloppy Joes"
(paraphrasing for copyright reasons)

package of buns
ketchup
Cheap Yellow Mustard
onions
meat

Fry meat and mix in all ingredients except the buns (emphasis added).



Umm, I'm the first to admit that I can't exactly cook, as such, but I am so picturing the product-liability-slash-test-kitchen meeting that led to them having to specify that...
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mac

Meet the New Year, same as the Old Year

I kept meaning to write a holiday episode of Trevor and Jason, but it just never came together. Have some of the spanakopita that Inner Jason stress-baked instead:

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A new year means a fresh slate of Media Consumption; year eleven was firmly in the "meh" zone, with 92 books and 45 films Consumed, and I note in passing that I still haven't finished stabilising that blanket either. Onward to year twelve, assuming we live all the way through 2017:

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mac

this is just to say / I can't remember the rest of / the poem

Not dead as of yet, just feeling very very meh about what passes for my life, but that isn't News. But this is News, so I shall post it: my raspberry bushes, which are apparently fall-bearing varieties, finally produced more than a couple of berries at one go:

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(We put them on sugar-cookies with a lime glaze. They were delicious.)

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    apathetic apathetic
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BRAAAAINS

In which Muse needs to apologise. Again.

It struck me that a bit in the most recent installment of "Trevor & Jason" had a potentially problematic reading. So I gave it some thought, and came up with a revision that I think/hope gets to the same place that the narrative needs to go, without the detour into "um, wait, or did they mean..." of the initial version. So. Live, learn, rinse, repeat.

(And it does trouble me, on the meta-level, that I do have the power to go in and alter the available text like this, which is why I mention it; it's probably not an accident that the Sekrit Project is a high-tech dystopia where they wouldn't even be aware that they had memory-holes things could drop into... and there's a certain irony in the fact that I think I lost a high-tech physical-backup of that at a free movie in a park the other night. :/ )
muse

the trenches dug within our hearts

Still picking away at the worldbuilding on Sekrit Project, and I think I've got a handle on the Suicide By Cop -- now all I need to work out is why the kindergarten teacher has the gun in the first place...

And now, a treat for whatever remaining Readers we may still have here: since this story was written with a very specific market in mind, and since today is its sell-by date in certain respects vis-a-vis finding it another home in a timely fashion, I'm just going to put this out here for my own amusement and y'all's. Enjoy?

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