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A mini-rant, an AHHH!, and a recipe

First, because of things happening to a very good friend of mine (this has crossover with our flists, I know) who, and I'd swear this over the life of my children, is one of the most thoughtful and considerate people on LJ, I want to say this: if you ever share anything I put in a locked post with anyone outside of that locked post, you are dead to me. Now. I don't go off on people under a lock (I have, though, but it's rare) and I don't post under a lock often. When I do it's with people whom I feel safe sharing my personal thoughts. Or it's writing that I'm uncertain about. Or it's personal information about my kids, maybe pictures. NONE OF THAT IS MEANT FOR THE WORLD. I will hunt you down and shame you, should you do something like that.

But none of you would do that, right? :) And if you think it's ever okay to do so, this is where you go ahead and take me off your flist and we just call it a day, fair and square.

Having said that, I would like to direct your attention to this Murphy bed made out of a PIANO. Guys, I won't lie, this hurts me. Background info: I grew up the daughter of a piano tuner/repair man. My father is a member of a dying breed of artisans, no lie. We always had a few pianos in the house as he worked on varying stages of their rebuilding, and I spent countless hours in the summer (or after school) helping my dad rebuild the actions. (When you hit a key, a series of levers and hammers activate to hit the string. I had the glorious job of using an ancient steam iron and nasty old rag that held decades of old glue within its fibers to loosen the glue that held the felt that cushioned the hammers that sat in the butt that housed the dampers that lived in the house that Jack built.)

My sister, Dampersnspoons (hey, there's where the name is from! *g*) actually helps him tuneDO EVERYTHING ELSE with pianos as well. I'm getting off track, but I want to say yes, the idea is cool, but I think, OH, THAT GLORIOUS UPRIGHT! It could have been in my home, and the wood is so beautiful! Sigh. I realize I'm mostly alone on this one. *solo C note, drop an octave, back up and tighten* <-- for my sister.

LASTLY! Holy sheep dung, I made a "faux mashed potato" last night that I was sure no one would like, but I had to try. And guess what? It was CRAZY DELICIOUS. Also, my son didn't realize it wasn't potatoes. The secret? Actual human brains. Just kidding, it was cauliflower.

Knew it. Butter always gets ya.

Faux Mershed Purterders

1 head of cauliflower (albino broccoli), cored, and chopped up into florets. (It's gonna be pureed, so don't feel like you have to be crazy here)
1/2 C non-fat sour cream (I used greek yogurt.)
scant tsp of Kosher salt (or 3/4 tsp regular)
few grinds of black pepper
1/4 C Parmesans or Pecorno-Romano (I used the latter.)
2 TBSP butter, melted and browned if you have the patience.

Cover the cauliflower in water in a pan, cook until tender, about 7 minutes for me. Drain, put in food processor (or blender if that's what you have.) Add in the sour cream (or yogurt) salt and pepper, pulse. Add the cheese and butter and process until creamy. Mine still had a few wee chunks, but I like a little tooth to my food. And teeth in my food. Just me?

Adjust seasonings to taste, and maybe go crazy nuts with some chives or green onion or summat. This made 5 helpings. But I totally would have eaten half of this myself.

I have to go to Sam's and buy apocalypse portions of toilet paper today. Why? Because I'm an American, that's why. (Lol, I have space and a teen boy with friends that evidently eat a lot of cheese. Gross.) <-- I never said I was classy. It was SASSY. They rhyme, I get why you'd be confused.


Jan. 13th, 2011 06:56 pm (UTC)
AHAHAHAHA, thank you for understanding my pain, and knowing how to make me not care about that piano. Okay, okay, I'm with you on the poetry of it all. BUT ONLY IF IT WAS SOAKED IN CAT PISS, BETH.

Wait... I thought you started tuning for dad, I was wrong? Color me surprised, I've been giving you more credit than you DESERVE. I wish you wouldn't lie to me, I really do.

OMG, I lol'd at the whole wommin cain't do this rant. I LOVE HIM BUT HE IS AN ASS ABOUT THINGS.

I want you to come over and make chicken verde tamales with me. SAD FACE. (I have pork tamales for you, btw.)
Jan. 13th, 2011 07:06 pm (UTC)
I think it's great that you often think I am better than I am, hahah! But nope, never tuned a piano in my life! I just do all the other stuff that's way harder and takes more training to learn how to do. Dad makes no effin' sense at all.

I would love to eat of your tamales! (And let me know what's up with the boy's b-day. We'd like to give him gifts and laughs.)
Jan. 13th, 2011 07:32 pm (UTC)
I mean, yeah, CLEARLY all of the rebuilding work is way more technical than using a friggin' oscilloscope and cranking it. (I'm making it seem easier than it is, other people reading this, my sister and dad have perfect pitch and- eh, Beth knows where I'm going with this.)

I would love for you to do so! I would also love for you to come a'rollin' with me, but I know you hate me and everything I stand for. And you may not give him laughs. You may give him introspections, please.

I'm not sure what his thoughts are on a party, but as soon as I know, I'll wait an hour, then let you know. :D


Are You Actually

Reading this? I'm just curious. Because that's really detail-oriented of you. Feel free to stop reading. But you can see that there's more here, so are you going to keep reading? Really? That's pretty dedicated. I'm impressed. No, really. I'm not being sarcastic, why do you get like that? See, this is the problem I have with your mother - yes. YES. I'm going there. It's time we put all of our cards on the table.

I love you, why are you doing this? After all we've been through? You don't have to be like this. You know, still reading. You could be baking a pie. And then sharing it with me.

Time Wot It Is

April 2017
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