Awfully civilized of you, old bean. I’ll try some; I love the flavor of cardomom.
I’ve been marginally aware that there’s a big wah-wah fest going on over something, but I’m just not interested. As long as we can continue to talk about books and movies and recipes and gardening and can bitch about stuff that’s bugging us, it is to yawn.
It’s somewhat amusing to read some of the posts in question; I like to imagine their screens all covered with spittle as their fingers dart nervously back and forth on the keyboard…
Well, I just made brownies. Stick o’ butter, 4 eggs, 2cups sugar, cup and a half cocoa, some misc. goodies, a half cup flour.
Doomed we are. No need to run. Might not be able to once they’re gone.
I’ve gradually and unwillingly come to accept that the ability to insult people is an important part of some people’s online experiences and that those of us that generally feel no need to do it aren’t necessarily superior. Beyond a little snark and sarcasm I rarely have to even know what the rules are to stay on the right side of them. As long as I can ignore it I mostly feel sorry for people that spent so much time being outraged and angry and I don’t want to read it too often.
Gardening season is already here in California. I just came in from ripping out a patch of mint with a pitchfork and turning a foot of soil over to get the roots out. It’s been raining for days so this is the easiest time for my futile efforts to control it. Whoever planted it should be forbidden to garden ever again. It’s not even good mint - it tastes like dish soap. I ripped out 3 wheelbarrows full and hauled them off to the burn pile. I’d feel better about it if I didn’t know that by next spring it will look like I never did it. Mint belongs in pots, not in the ground. Our fruit trees are just starting to bloom and spring bulbs are coming up but the rainy season isn’t over yet so most of the soil is too wet to work yet.
The mountains got 3+ feet of snow in the past few days; it’s the best skiing of the year in New England. You’ll take my winter from me when you pry by ski poles from my frozen, stiff fingers!