impostors

Jul. 19th, 2017 09:37
jazzfish: Jazz Fish: beret, sunglasses, saxophone (Default)
[personal profile] jazzfish
"Impostors" are what the cookbook I pulled the recipe out of called them. I guess it's because they look like chocolate bars until you cut into the pan and discover the peanut buttery deliciousness underneath. I started making them in high school, when I needed a dessert to take to forensics potlucks and such. I've not made them in ages, though.

Last week I was going through the recipe box taking photos of the ones I wanted to save, and the impostors recipe was one of those. I transcribed it from the photo on the plane out here. And then in the grocery store I saw the boxes of Baker's chocolate and remembered that Erin, who doesn't normally like sweet things, likes Reeses's cups, and said "Hey, I could make impostors!"

The nice thing about this recipe is that it is basically impossible to screw up sugar, butter, and peanut butter. It's possible to ruin the chocolate, either by scorching it or apparently by allowing even a single drop of water to come in contact with it, but taking it slowly reduces the likelihood of that as well.

recipe )

Owww

Jul. 12th, 2017 21:25
uilos: (head lights)
[personal profile] uilos
Dear self,

The next time you give yourself a good bash on the head while trying to plug something into a floor outlet, could you please at least hit someplace that will give a nice big bruise?  It's pretty pitiful to have this painful a forehead and nothing to show for it.

Alternately, you could just stop trying to plug things into outlets with nearby chairs.  Floor outlets, good.  Hard chair arms, good.  Combination, bad.

Thanks,
Me

Life is a gorgeous, broken gift.

Jul. 11th, 2017 22:12
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
[personal profile] naamah_darling
I lost a very, very old friend over the weekend.  The illness was sudden, acute, and ultimately fatal.  In less than a week, she was gone.

We weren't so close that her material absence will affect me on a daily basis.  I didn't see her often.  But I respected her, and she had an effect on who I am today. Without her I would be a slightly different version of me, not the me I am.

My own grief and pain is still daily, and pressing.  It's right and fair, it's proof I loved someone, and so it's not something I want to turn away from or bury.  I cared about her, and I am reasonably sure she cared about me, but this is nowhere near as devastating to me as it is for others who knew her better, saw her more, loved her in ways that I did not.  That hurts to see.  All the pain I can't help alleviate in any real way.

So it hurts, yeah, and it is frightening to know that someone so young could die so suddenly -- she was DECADES away from a reasonable age to go.  It's terrifying to watch this happen, knowing how helpless everyone was to stop it, seeing how it left everyone bereft, and how all of us, every one, is going to go through a version of this with someone they love.

That bit, the anxiety over the unavoidable future, is the part that's been hardest to cope with.  I know how to grieve, and grief is not unhealthy.  Anxiety doesn't help anyone.

So yeah, that's been a little rough.

I'm also doing some really hard work in therapy.  Working on old trauma that is holding me back.

And I'm doing some medical stuff that has also been difficult -- I'm over one of the big humps, and things are going so fucking well with that I can hardly believe it, but it was really stressful going in, and there is more difficult stuff ahead of me.  The goal of the therapy is to get me well enough to do it.  I'm not looking forward to it, but it's a thing I'd like to have in the rearview, not the passenger seat.  You know?

I am caught in the middle of a complicated and frightening life that is nevertheless very beautiful.  I am doing well, I am doing poorly, I am doing everything at once, feeling everything at once.  It's hard and it's easy, it's good and it's bad.  It's all so unstable.  All I know is that I don't care how fucked up everything is, I want to be here.  I am happy to be here.  This is a good place to be, even when it's terrible.  I very much want to live.  I am very glad to have a future again.

ETA: She was an organ donor, and that saved lives.  I have registered to become one.  I urge you to consider doing so as well, if you are able.

step into this fire i've set

Jul. 10th, 2017 22:02
jazzfish: a black-haired man with a big sword. blood stains the snow behind (Eddard Stark)
[personal profile] jazzfish
Thirty boxes of games. I mean, technically twenty-seven, but three of those are overlong boxes, and there's some odds and ends that didn't make it into a box yet. Like Gram's Mahjongg set which doesn't easily fit into anything. Speaking of, I'd ought to take the go set as well.

Expect I could cull it down to two bookcases worth of games. Likely worth doing.

Plan is to take four bookcases with me; if two are games, that leaves two for books. Which means I need to figure out which books come with me and which get to live in boxes for the foreseeable.

The last of Martha Wells's Raksura books should be here on Wednesday, and I'll take that north with me for next week. Other than that, probably some comfort reading. The complete Mike Ford certainly, maybe Freedom & Necessity (s'what I read after Kelly dumped me), hell, maybe it's time to carry on with that full Dragaera reread I've been threatening for awhile. If I had early Misty Lackey books (specifically Arrows and Herald-Mage) I'd read those, they're the kind of displaced trauma I'm looking for. Maybe something by eBear. Etc.

Anyway, books are tomorrow's problem.

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