Blog-Specific Bellyaching

In CategoryNavel Gazing

All right, this is strictly a gripe session.

Last week, I caught up on some blog reading and commenting, and found myself so frustrated that I feel the need to vent.

Number One Pet Peeve:

The Captcha. I hate the Captcha. Hate. Hate. Hate.

First of all, are people really getting that much spam? Does Blogger not have a Moderate First Comments Only option? Why must I jump through these hoops? By the time I squint and try multiple times and keep guessing wrong, my super witty comment has flitted right out of my sieve-like brain.

And then who suffers? We all do, people. We all do.

Secondly: Autoplay music. Doesn’t this sort of go without saying? I listen to the radio through my computer, and I don’t need to be jolted out of my coffee-hazed reverie because someone loves The Captain & Tennile. You know what I’m saying? I will never, never, never read a blog that assaults me with autoplay music.

Wow, that was grouchy.

Thirdly: Partial Feeds in my blog reader. I don’t like partial feeds. It’s too much extra clicking. I’m not trying to have reading give me carpel-tunnel syndrome.

Okay, that’s pretty much it. What do you think? Am I off the mark? Do you have pet peeves too? Or am I just the Super Crabby Lady now?

Obviously, I would never leave the internet. That’s just crazy talk.

I made some changes in the background here – installed a caching plug-in, and finally upgraded to JetPack, so if you notice any negative changes, please let me know.

I lost my guinea pig. We gotta look for him. Here, Percy

In CategoryNavel Gazing

Don’t watch this if you don’t have a sense of humor.


In CategoryAdventure, Cooking

This house does not have a stove or oven. This is posing a significant problem for me, what with the people around here who want food cooked for them every day.

Yes, I knew going in that there was no oven or stovetop, but the owner told me that she had an electric skillet and a crock pot and a toaster oven, and I believed I could make it work. However, I foolishly thought No Oven only meant No Oven. But it also seems to mean No Cooking Utensils of Any Kind. There is no steak knife, nor spatula, nor mixing bowl. There is one tiny paring knife, ridiculously stored in a sheath, but which is so dull that I have to look at it to make sure I am using the right side of the blade.

Apparently, the house had been converted into a lawyer’s office or something before these owners turned it into a vacation rental, so it only has an office-type kitchen area. Thankfully, there is a dishwasher and decent-sized refrigerator. But I have no idea what to put in the refrigerator.

Unfortunately, I’m far enough down the Real Food path that the thought of feeding my family convenience foods for five weeks makes me ill. On the other hand, I can’t make anything elaborate because Hai, there’s NO STOVE. Gah. And also no counter space. To give you some idea, there is a Keurig coffee maker and it takes up over 50% of the counter.

So. Yeah.

I’ve made every iteration of tacos I can think of, and the electric skillet is pretty big, so I’ve been able to make skillet ziti and fried rice, but I’m running out of ideas.

Do y’all have any recipes that are Real Food but that don’t take a lot of prep or ingredients or, you know, cooking?

Random Monday

In CategoryRandom Monday

• As I sat down to write this, my son said to me, “Mom, I have a suggestion on how you can improve dinner.”

Well, let me get a pencil and paper, little boy, I’m all ears.

Good grief.

• When Jim and the kids were playing outside yesterday, some woman came up to the back gate and asked if she could come in the yard for a second. Apparently, she used to live next door to this house.

And she had a cat.

That died.

She buried it in the backyard. There’s a memorial plaque.

That she wanted to visit.

She leaned over the fence and started talking in the general direction of the a tree next door.

Anyway, it was all perfectly normal.

• We went to a street fair over the weekend. I saw a dog wearing a tutu –

A fur legwarmer sort of a thing that fools people into thinking regular shoes are boots –

It’s no handcarved wooden chicken, but I bought an apron for my sister –

And a yarn bowl for myself –

How was your weekend?