After I got off work and chilled for a bit, it was time to go get food for the Temple. We have a chicken problem -- namely, someone cooks chicken, and then it just sits there. And it gets thrown out. Sometimes it doesn't even get cooked.

So this time, I did what I'd been planning to do for the longest time, and cooked the chicken, stripped it from its bones, and shoved it into the dehydrator. Come morning, we will have bone-dry chicken bits, suitable for shoving into random soups as meat. They'll keep quite a long time, one should think, especially if we got a vacuum packer.

If we can refrain from nibbling on them as if they were jerky. Mmm, jerky.

The bones with the residual meat that was too hot to get off are in the crock pot along with the juice, stewing and simmering so that I can toss it in the fridge and go after it with the big strainer later, and have soup ready once the last bits of that stew disappear.

Mama's chicken -- the baked chicken with the garlic -- really spoiled me for chicken cooked any other way. Also, I've found that some chicken isn't cooked well enough for me -- because I know how chickens live, and how clean they are, all my chicken must be fully done to overdone. Any hint of anything that looks like pinkness is enough to make me eat no more chicken, even though everybody else swears it's completely done.

"It works better if you have an object." --Konstantine Bothari, on beating Barrayaran brainwashing to forget things.

Adults see what's real and what's not real better than kids do. At least, most adults can see between consensus reality and the reality that we spin out of ourselves...

...I think.

All I know is, when you've got reality, and a spinner of realistic tales, and a tower princess, you're bound to have problems.

Refresh your friends list and reply to the 3rd entry from the top with the phrase "In the Butt." no matter what the content of the original entry.

Then repost these instructions in your own LJ.

Somewhat sophomoric, but since I restrained myself from giggling at kellinator's poooooooooooooooop! entry, I figure I'm due some time off from pretending to be mature.

In other news, marxdarx is still 30. This makes him the oldest member of the household (other household members being 28, 23, 7, 3, and 1 (the last two being cats)). He is still not a grown-up. I might be a grown-up. I'm not sure. I still like things. I see them with my eyes.

In other, other news, "Scampi" can and will drive bad country music out of your head -- for a price. Perhaps a terrible price.

We had a good evening last night, and toasted the season with plum wine and sparkling cider. The debauchery was limited (but, yummm, brownies, wee!) and there was much artificial bloodshed on the LAN game.

As Phoenix dew is about as limited as Fairbanks dew on Beltane, I hope to be forgiven for washing my face in the sink, not with dew. (Back home I used snow to scrub my face.)

Tamsin, Peter S. Beagle. Nicely done.

Since newspapers and Men in Black are starting to pay attention to blogs, I figure it's my civic duty to complain about gas prices, complain about education, complain about Youth These Days, and so forth.

Oh, and the government.

I think the platform that the US government was founded on was great. I think that the current install is screwed to hell, and that it's either going to take a few generations of writing and installing patches, a wipe and reinstall, or switching to a different platform entirely to get rid of the fucking mess.

I'm almost ready to say "Screw this, I'm headed to Scotland."

But I don't really have job skills, I don't have a place to live, I'm not done with my degree, I'm broke, and I have obligations here.

Waiting is.

http://www.fanfiction.net/~azurelunatic

I have two stories up there now, and no one outside of my beta filter has seen them yet, with the exception of dustraven, and V and the Pirate Queen from freshstartwrite.

They are:
"The Prisoner" and "Univited Visitor". Both have my trademark wit.