A little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal. -Oscar Wilde

Tuesday, November 16, 2010


The less said about the Steelers at the moment, the better. How they could do this to me when I'm marooned so deep in enemy territory? And alas, poor Skippy! I knew him, Horatio, a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He hath bore us on his foot a thousand times, and now how abhorr'd in my imagination it is!
My gorge rises at it.

Then again, perhaps we knew him a little too well.

Otherwise... Thanksgiving is coming. There's positivity. It's a happy holiday, though now I'm one of those people who get to join the teeming masses that have to actually take off time and travel for the holiday. And travel on the busiest day of the year, no less. I'm not sure how I feel about this. I'm not sure how I feel about (dun dun dun) not really making anything for a holiday.

You see, not making anything is unfortunate because I recycled my beautiful decorative pumpkins into over 11 and a half cups of cooked mashed pumpkin. A standard 15oz can of pumpkin has about 1.75 cups. So... I have the equivalent of over 6.5 cans of pumpkin. Or had. Two cups were turned into a batch of ginger pumpkin muffins in a little recipe I concocted/ adapted. They seemed to be mostly well-received, though the amount of moisture in the fresh pumpkin threw off the water: oil ratio more than I thought (and I was trying to not use too much fat). So, lesson learned there. Otherwise they were fairly decent pumpkin-ginger-molasses things with streusel tops and rum drizzle. And one person said they looked like they came from Starbucks or something. I'm not too much of a snob that I won't take that as a compliment. But seriously, I'm going to wind up with a freezer full of pumpkin bread, aren't I?

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