Hey look, a pie

 

Check it out. I did domestic stuff, and it looks fantastic! I don't cook, as some of you know. I have a new need to learn to cook like a grown up -as opposed to cooking frozen not-meats in a convection oven or eating cold cereal while leaning over the kitchen sink- but nearly every time I do cooking I hurt something.

There was the time shortly after moving into a new apartment that I started a fire with butter; I wiped soot off the counters for two months. Or the time I burned my hand grabbing the handle of a skillet that had come out of a 350 degree oven only moments before.

I'm sure I've told you about my childhood, and how food would magically appear in front of me with absolutely no effort or decision required on my part. Until I moved out of my mom's house, food just happened around me (and if you know my mom, you'll know that food happened A LOT); once I was out on my own, pop-tarts and take-out pizza are what happened to me (and my ass).

So now I'm 30-I-don't-know and only just now learning The Cooking. Sometimes it's a disaster, but it often makes very pretty pictures. Oh and in case you're wondering, it's apple pie which I don't even like.

Ugh

This blog needs an update…

I didn't finish NaNo; didn't even come close. I'm still writing that silly novel though (and by 'writing' I mean 'thinking about writing', or 'not giving it up').

I still have a job, for now. No news on the structure or how future arrangements will be made. So I'm waiting, and I'm not very good at it.

One of my employees passed away a couple weeks ago and I've got odd feelings about it.

Holidays are kind of gross for me. Every year there are things I look forward to and enjoy very much, and every year I fight tears in silent, in-between moments of activity and I don't understand why.

The end.