Soup

It was cold last night. How cold? I don't know the number. It seems that when we get down to single digits, the batteries freeze up in the sensor unit of my digital thermometer. Despite the fact that I forked over the extra cash for the lithium batteries that are recommended for the extreme weather conditions. Not to mention that they'll last 4x longer! That's a quote from the packaging. I expect they might last longer, if only because they're in cold storage. The point is, when it's cold outside, I am often inspired to make soup. Chicken tortilla soup, to be precise. Warm, spicy and delicious. Makes a cold night just a bit more tolerable.

Observation

It's interesting how you still must file with the IRS even though, technically, you have no income.

How Shocking!

Yup. This pretty much sums it up for me. Nothing like a simple graphic to concisely explain a concept. One that some find difficult to comprehend. Any questions?

Yesterday's Lunch

I know. It's fuzzy. I really must take my camera along to lunch so I don't have to resort to my phone camera when the food is unexpectedly beautiful. This was the most colorful lunch I have experienced in my entire life. Cream of asparagus soup. Baby greens, sliced tomato with a tangy vinaigrette. And hiding under the top half of the bun is a luscious crab cake topped with purple cabbage slaw. It was delectable. The perfect condiment on the side was some kind of horseradish-ey, garlicious, mayo based tartar sauce that I could have eaten with a spoon. I refrained from licking the last vestiges of it from its cute little cup. Self control is overrated.

The Twos Have It

Today is the second day of the second week of the second month of the second year of the second decade of the second millennium. Sorry I wasn't paying attention to this numerical oddity at 2:22:22 this morning. Maybe it's a day for second chances. Second thoughts. Revisiting that which is not settled. Twice is nice. Love is always better the second time around. Put on your pink tutu and dance!

The Not Starving Artist

The worst part about whipping cream is when you have to lick the beater. I like to think I suffer for my culinary art.

Startling Revelation Deux

At last! Everything is so much clearer now! Tigh has explained to me that I am actually a gay man who is trapped in a woman's body. No wonder I'm fabulous! No wonder I can decorate! No wonder I can distinguish an Anjou pear from a Bosc or a Bartlett. One thing's sure. I need to work on my abs.