Smokey the Magnificent

Not having blogged for a few days, I will itemise my points for the sake of expediency.

1. The pig inspects her vomit with the wary interest of a Victorian naturalist coming across a new species of jellyfish on the beach.

2. In a shocking turn of events, it’s July. I have neglected my garden for months, but on Wednesday I finally got around to planting garlic, red onions, peas and snow peas. I also bought some all-seasons carrot seeds today. If only a tenth of the peas I planted come up, we’ll be inundated; I think all those metres of bare earth went to my head.

3. Homemade hummus, mixed half-and-half with natural yoghurt, is delish.

4. What is up with butter-flavoured shortening? It’s a ghastly idea; I came across it in a recipe for banana biscuits which a thousand eager commenters said “taste like muffin tops”. Perhaps more to the point, what’s up with muffin tops? Have we become so precious as a species we cannot face the stem of the muffin without getting an attack of the vapours? Someone on Smallville the other day requested the muffin top without the stem and I chalked it up to insanity, but now I see people everywhere going on about them. I mean, que? The flanks of a fishie without the head, yes; a pineapple without its core, certainly. But a muffin without the stem? It’s preferences like those that make me inclined to mutter “What this country needs is a good war”. Except I think it’s mostly Americans who have the muffin-top-without-the-stem thing, and it never pays to mutter that in America.

Maybe it’s a dieting thing? Did Oprah once call in her experts to show the world how 89% of the calories in a muffin sink to the bottom? Well, they do in mine, but only because I stuff cubes of cream cheese or squares of Turkish Delight chocolate in them before baking. Or maybe it’s a protest against dieting, kind of an adipositivity “celebrate the muffin top” vibe. I don’t know.

5. This is awesome:

6. Turns out Bride and Groom magazine doesn’t send you a complimentary copy of the issue for which you wrote an article, and you have to happen upon it in the post office and go “Ooh, I wrote that!” Also turns out they don’t pay you unless you fill out an IR330 and mail it to ‘em, but that’s OK, especially given that keeping track of invoices isn’t your strong point and you thought you’d been paid six months ago. There’s nothing more pleasing than unexpected money.

7. Except successfully performing manly DIY tasks by yourself. You know those hooks I bought for the bedroom wall? I located the studs by banging scientifically on the wall (which the snortlepig took to heart; she has taken to officiously knocking on all the walls of the house); measured up and drilled holes with my father’s power drill; bought screws of the correct size; recognised a screwdriver in the garage which was trying to look like something else; and wrangled those hooks onto the wall before theu knew what hit ‘em. My two cheese hats and Helpdesk Man’s cowboy hat are currently chillaxing in a regal row above our underwear chest (yes, we keep our underwear in a chest; it confuses pirates), and I feel empowered.

8. I also managed to unscrew the something plate on the sewing machine to retrieve a bit of applique that had made a dash for it, but I had to call my mother for that one. She knocks down walls and puts up wallpaper.

9. Would you rather be a Womble or a hobbit?