I’ve decided to make real English-type scones.  If you’re from England, you’ve probably never had a NOT English-type scone.  They’re . . . well. . . they’re not really scones in anyway.  When you come to visit, I’ll buy you an American scone.  You’ll be less than impressed (well. . . if you don’t expect it to be a scone, it’s quite nice, actually. . . but it’s not a scone).

I found myself a recipe (we’ll see how that goes), but I had to make a few conversions (lots of oz to c and tbsp and pint to c).  Anywho. . . I found an awesome website.  If you like cooking, or are just generally interested, head to this site.  It’s edutainment!

So, for those not in the US (or those who are here but don’t watch insipid TV like I do), there is a show that’s just began its run called “The Millionaire Matchmaker”.  The basic premise is that a woman goes into the lives of Millionaire bachelors and helps them find “true love” through her own personal methods of abuse. . . I mean dating.

She makes it a point to tear these guys apart, try and change who they are, and then find them a woman who supposedly like these men for who they are (or what she’s changed them to be).  Today, she made a huge issue about one of her clients’ wardrobe.  You know what?  It was cool.  He had some cool pieces in his wardrobe, and she told him that they were ugly! 

Then, she goes into how their homes aren’t set up for  women, they need haircuts, attitude adjustments, etc. etc.  I’d like to point out. . . this woman is no prize pig (photo below), and isn’t married (or at least doesn’t wear her wedding ring, which seems like bad relationship politics). 

I suppose I just find it annoying that she rips these guys apart for having everything in their lives except love.  I suppose that they’re asking for her to come in, but. . . I don’t know.  I just don’t think she’s the one that I would ask to come in and introduce me to people, because. . . well. . . all of her silly rules make me doubt her ability to find someone for me.

Good thing I already found someone, and therefore don’t need her help.

For many reasons, I have been thinking about people's sense of practicality versus their sense of impulsiveness. People seem to lean one way or the other.  I have a few male friends who are so practical that they occasionally ruin my fun (as much as I love them). I have other male friends who are so impulsive that it can be hard to spend extended periods of time with them (as much as I love them). I have female friends who are so impulsive that it absolutely boggles my mind and results in me being unable to understand them (as much as I love them). I even have some female friends who are so practical that they can be damn annoying (as much as I love them

So, what to do?   I'm not sure where I fit in.  Perhaps it depends on who I ask, but I probably lean more toward the impulsive side than the practical side.

What was the point of this blog? Well. . . as I was thinking about this, my mind wandered to Hamish, and where I thought that he belonged on this sliding scale. I thought about it, and it didn't take long to come to a conclusion.

For me. . . Hamish is the perfect compromise of the two. He is practical when he really needs to be. He thinks about things logically, mathematically, and seriously. But, he indulges my impulsiveness. Sometimes it pushes him against the grain a little, but he always bears with me, and he's always a good sport.  And I love that about him.  He's willing to do it because it makes me happy; because he loves me so much.

And I love him for that.  I'm glad that I have someone like him to share my life with. It's nice to have an anchor, but it's nice to have a partner for my shenanigans. Having someone to grab by the hand and take with me when I want to do something that isn't planned and is completely impulsive, having someone to experience it with, having someone to pull on the reigns before things go to far, having someone to go home with at the end of it all and go back to living life as it's been scheduled. . .

I've never met anyone so willing to go along with me on these things. Someone who compliments my personality so well. Hamish has enough sense to keep us both out of trouble, but enough frivolty so we can both enjoy ourselves.  I love that we can experience life together. That's what I really want.  Someone to live life with. And. . . . I think Hamish is that person.  I think he's the one that I will be able to live the rest of my life with.

I love him.

I was reading an interesting article today about how a particular type of parasite in the Amazon is ingested by ants and then through lovely parasitic processes turns the ant's abdomen semi-clear, which, when hit correctly by sunlight, will look red like berries which birds of the region particularly enjoy cosuming.  Here's the photo.

Now, the article was really interesting and not too technical, which is good for someone who isn't an entymologist or parasitologist.  But. . . if you read past page one and on to page two you'll see this:

"The parasites in the poo hatch and travel to the tiny ant's gaster, where they mate and multiply."

Wait.  Did a serious article about parasites and insects just use the word 'poo'?  I mean. . . this makes even less sense when you read the sentence that precedes it:

"Ants feed the bird feces to their own larvae."

Hold on.  So. . . feces. . . then poo.  A couple paragraphs down:

"The consumer then poops and starts the trematode's life cycle again."

There it is again.  I just. . .the credibility of this article has just diminished, which is sad, because it is very interesting.  When you read articles of this type you shouldn't think of a twelve year old snickering.

On a lighter note, here's a cute photo of the orphaned baby Polar Bear in Nuremberg:

What is it with parents and technology?  I know that Hamish, Emily and Leon know exactly what I mean.

Really.  I love my Mom.  I do.  But she, much like many other parents, is not particularly good with technology.  We were just at Wal-Mart (Leon knows where this is going) and we went through self-check out after a bit of cajoling on my part.  We get to the scanner, and Mom says she likes this part.

I know what this means.  This means that she'll be doing the scanning while I stand there and cringe through my teeth because I know that I could do it faster and more efficiently.  We had issues with potatoes, bacon, flour, tomatoes, and onions.  And the mushrooms were broken open.  It's just. . . annoying. 

I understand that you parents out there want to learn about technology, just don't do it in front of us.  And don't be snippy with me about being like this!  You're exactly the same with your kids.  You want us to do things, but you want us to already know how to do them to the level you know how to do whatever this particular thing is.  And if we don't do it to your liking, speed, or quality the phrase: "Ugh, just let ME do it.  Things won't get done around here if I don't do them."

There you go.  That's our problem.  It's just annoying, and we just want to get things done and over with.  No need for wasting a lot of time.

Remember parents: We still love you, we just don't want to waste a week waiting for you to figure out technology that we could have finished using ages ago.

I have absolutely become enamoured with Jamie Oliver.  Guffaw if you will, but I never saw the amazing culinary skill that he could exhibit before this.  I've seen him before, in his earlier incarnations ('Naked Chef' and the what not), but 'Jamie at Home' is absolutely stunning in so many ways.

This episode (the first aired in the United States) was about peppers and chilies.  Firstly, he made a wonderful stuffed roasted pepper halves filled with tomatoes, garlic, multiple kinds of chilies, black olives, basil, with bacon on top and steamed in front of an open air grill/oven.  Then, he placed it on some toasted bread, allowing the juices to soak into the bread, all served with torn, fresh mozzarella dressed with chilies and olive oil.

The next creation was a pork goulash with looked absolutely stunning.  The pork was placed in a dutch oven with canned tomatoes, chilies, peppers, etc.  It cooked for 2 1/2 to 3 hours and then the pork just pulled apart in an absolutely mouth-watering way.  He served it with some beautiful basmati rice, and a generous dollop of sour cream, lemon zest, and parsley on top.  Sumptuous! (I'm planning on making this dish within the next few days, and hopefully it will turn out as amazing as it looks.)

Lastly, Jamie made a gorgeous salmon dish.  Now, those who know me, know that fish is VERY low on my desirable protein list.  I just don't like it (exceptions do apply).  In this case, Jamie placed wood and liquid in the bottom of a McVitties biscuit tin, punched holes in the lid, then placed the fish on raised chicken wire.  He placed it on top of the stove, put on the top and let it steam.  While the fish steamed he made a gorgeous salsa made of tomatoes, a generous amount of chilies, cucumber, lime juice, avocado, and of course, salt.  Let me just say, the salmon looked absolutely breath-taking.  I don't like fish, and I wanted to indulge in this.  Oh! 

I am so pleased that this has come on the air.  Jamie Oliver has shot his way up my list of favoured chefs.  The set is amazing and the food is wonderful.  This reminds me why I love England so much. 

I've just finished watching "Bender's Big Score" (the Futurama movie), and was reduced to tears 5 times.  It was absolutely touching, moving, and heart-wrenching, as Futurama has been for me so many times before.

Watching this, reminds me how much I identify with Phillip J. Fry, and why, as a character, he is absolutely marvelous.  The other characters are great, don't get me wrong.  But he just pulls at my heart-strings.  Never in my life have I watched anything that so readily reduced me to a sobbing state. 

The crafty creations of Matt Groening and his exquisite team of writers, producers, animators, actors, and the rest, absolutely amaze me.  How can one group of people single-handedly produce so many pieces of work that touch me so deeply. 

Fry is the one underdog that I can't help but root for.  I know you think I'm crazy, but I don't care!  Finding someone, even through fiction, who goes through the pains that I feel like I go through is something I cherish.  I don't think anyone understand, and I don't think that there will be any sympathy for my empathy with a cartoon character, but it doesn't matter!  Futurama may make me cry, but this movie has just solidified in my mind that Futurama is the single best show in the history of man.  At least for me.

My heart aches for him, and I can't help but appreciate it.  The sad thing is, identifying so readily with an animated character, makes it harder to deal with the fact that you have to identify with them from the other side of a screen. 

It sounds silly, I know.  But the character is genius.  And even if Matt, David, Rich, Gregg, the rest of the Futurama team (and especially the magnificent Billy West) never realize it, they've helped one person find someone who they know feels the pain and heartbreak, even if that other person is an amazing character of their creation.

Ahh. . . blogging.  The final temptation for a woman who has already sold her soul to the internet.  Alas, I give myself to the open establishment of all my thoughts to the world. . .

Enough dramatics.  I've decided that blogging will be good for me.  It will allow me to express the things that usually sit pent up.  But, why publicize?  Well. . . I'd like to say that it's complicated, but it's really not.  There are people that I want to see these things.  Without forcing them upon them.  It's almost a way of letting my thoughts flow out and to those they are intended for.

Plus, it will let me post up and comment on things I find generally amusing (which doesn't particularly relate to the above).  No need to set forth solid plans.  Who knows how long this will last? 

I for one, do not.  Ahh, whimsy.