$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.
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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.
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It’s a totally rad tool for blowing up a propane tank, let me tell you.
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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!
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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).
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did my comment disappear?
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