Dec 27, 2025
What in the world? Extra counter space?
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What in the world? Extra counter space?
Tag Game
Oh this is one I only ran into today and was just thinking about, thank you @charmwasjess :D
One piece of jewelry you can’t go anywhere without:
Not really a jewelry person but probably the little plastic six-pronged hairclips. Hair in my face is right up there on the list of most annoyances so get Thee Behind Me! If my hair isn’t shoulder length I wear it all day (and all night if I forget about it). If my hair is long enough like now, I just wear it for any walking/hiking/mushrooming etc.
Most worn shoes:
This assumes I can keep a pair intact long enough to count, which is tragically a bold assumption. I love walking, hiking, mushroom foraging, etc. enough that any shoes routinely fall apart somewhere between a day and two years. I do have a most worn type of shoe, but I’ve noticed a distinct decrease in the quality of Keens the last two pairs so I can’t recommend it anymore.
New book/fic that has you in its grasp:
Re-read Gary Paulsen’s Brian series, which is still quite decent – wilderness survival stories is another of my loved genres – though I do wish his realism in writing said genre extended to his portrayal of Indigenous Americans. He at least does better with the Smallhorns than with everyone in Tucker.
Latest kitchen fail:
Masala Chai has been the victim of my last two kitchen fails. One was a simple ‘re-brewing this Chai Did Not Work’. Twice. Which left me with about half a gallon of sweet milk.
The other time…
So according to the recipe I use, there’s two ways to properly brew Masala Chai. One is the chaiwallah way which is the clean way and the other is the literal quick and dirty way: you bring the milk spice mixture to a boil and snatch the pot off just before it boils over. Twice.
As you can imagine the second method is notoriously messy but I pick the quick and dirty way every time. This has backfired on me only once so far but whoo boy! The chai boiled over horribly – the burner, the plate under the burner, the space beneath that and all over the stovetop.
At work.
I figured it’s better to beg forgiveness than ask permission but I’m quite certain I can’t beg forgiveness enough for this mess. Or making tea on the clock when I’m supposed to be at my desk.
Luckily it was a slow day, everyone else was taking care of the animals so I had the time to give everything a good rinsing/scrubbing/mopping. If things were a little cleaner than they were in the morning? At least someone else did the dishes.
I even had enough left over for a cup so not a complete kitchen fail.
A piece of media you’ve been wanting to watch for ages but never got the time to:
Also Rebels and it was put up on youtube! Alas time constraints meant I didn’t binge the whole thing by the time their new age-screening policy and the retaliating youtube boycott started up. So until or unless they scrap their newest disgusting policy change that’s going onhold.
At least until I buckle down and get that darn VPN first.
Latest character to enter brain rot mode:
Probably Mace Windu. Jedi rot my brain in general and I have a wheel o’ blorbo Jedi that my mind usually spins but yesterday I chucked that wheel to the side and typed in Mace Windu. I’m re-reading Blackkat’s “Death sent the bridegroom” cause that was the first one that came up, it’s also a Hidden Jedi Order AU and it has Jaster Mereel’s Brilliant Plan: Marriage of Convenience (TM).
No pressure tagging @panther-os, @s-c-g-s-c-g, @beskad, @purple-ant, @feruslands + any one who wants – tag you’re it!
I'm fuckin decimated... what have I done to them
Fire fire fire!
Hi you're one of my favouritst writers, just don't tell the others. Please can you write me “Darling I love you and all, but please step out of the kitchen.” from your prompt list but make it Romione! Ta!
d’aw thanks! I love your writing just as much <3
Took a Frat break this evening to write you this little surprise for when you wake up!
*********
Darling, I love you and all, but please step out of the kitchen.
I can do this. I can DO this, Hermione thought to herself. Baking is just like potions, right? Just follow the directions, use the exact amount the ingredients list calls for and things will be good to go.
So, Hermione set about mixing all the ingredients and following the directions exactly as written. Ron would be home soon from his weekend away for Harry’s bachelor party and she wanted to surprise him with his favorite biscuits when he returned. She’d seen him and Mrs. Weasley do it enough times, and it didn’t look that hard. Plus, her mum had always said, ‘if you can read, you can cook!’
After scooping the dough out into even balls onto the baking sheet, she popped the biscuits in the oven. She was about to set the timer, but then the phone rang and Hermione became distracted. Mrs. Granger was calling to check in with her daughter, and Hermione quickly became caught up in the conversation and effectively forgot about the biscuits.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but when a waft of something burning caught her nose, she immediately realized the mistake she’d made. Oh, no! The biscuits! “Er, Mum, I have to go. I completely forgot about some biscuits I was baking. I’ll call you back.”
Hermione hung up the phone and ran into the kitchen. Once at the oven, she opened the door and a plume of smoke poured out.
“No, no, no, no, no!” Hermione cried.
She shut the oven door as quickly as she could, but it was too late. The muggle smoke detector she’d insisted they buy for their flat began beeping loudly. Hermione dropped the sheet with the charred biscuits on the counter and looked around frantically for a chair to stand on so she could take down the device and pop the batteries out.
Her back was turned from the doorway, as she was reaching for the chair when suddenly the beeping stopped. She whipped around to see Ron standing in the doorway. The smoke detector was in one hand with the batteries in the other. He had a look of pure amusement on his face as his eyebrow was raised in question. The air was still smoky around them, and she knew he’d noticed the biscuits that were burnt to a crisp on the counter.
“Darling, I love you and all, but I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the kitchen,” he said jovially.
Hermione knew when to admit defeat as she threw her hands up in the air and blew curls of hair out of her face. She collapsed in a heap on the chair she’d originally meant to grab to take care of the incessant sound of the smoke alarm.
“I’m sorry, I thought I could surprise you by baking biscuits for when you got home.”
Ron set the device on the counter and walked over to her. He took her hands and pulled her up so he could wrap her in a hug.
“I see that, and I appreciate the gesture,” he said with a chuckle. “But you know I would have been happy with a proper snog, right?”
She sighed into his shirt. “Someday I’ll surprise you with my ability to be domestic when I want to be.”
Ron snorted as she slapped his chest lightly. “Hey, I love you for you. I don’t need you to stay at home, cooking a roast every night or baking fresh homemade biscuits once a week.”
“I know. I guess I just wanted to prove that I could. And to show you how much I missed you,” Hermione looked up at him.
“Well, I can think of a few other ways you could show me how much you missed me,” Ron waggled his eyebrows at her.
“Let me just make sure the oven is off. I’ll clean the rest up later.”
Before she could move to go take care of things, Ron pulled his wand out, casting a couple silent charms. “Honestly, woman, are you a witch or what?”
@rottenbrainstuff as you mentioned kitchen fails, here is an original Mae fail. I was 13 and working in my parent's kitchen during the weekends. They bought a new ketchup dispenser to refill the bottles. I mounted it on the wall but neglected to install the proper valve. Well, I pulled the cap thinking it was the valve and off it popped. A stream of ketchup erupted and I emptied a couple gallons before I managed to stop it. This is the aftermath with me looking rather defeated as I attempted to clean it up. To this day, I have an aversion to ketchup.
When you forget the next step
Flipper follies.