Other thing #1: Today's pointless photo features a Bad Cat. A slightly unusual Bad Cat. This particular Bad Cat isn't the most physically adept cat in the world, and while we know that she's capable of jumping up on things, it's generally after spending a good minute or so trying to gauge the jump. The other (Bad) Cat is always up on something or other, and has been known to sit on top of the fish tank now and then. BUT NOT ON THE FILTER. Sure, this particular filter isn't operating at the moment since Dad usually uses it as his backup in case the main pump stops, but still. If any Bad Cat could knock the whole system to pieces by accidentally slipping, it'd be this one. Bad Cat. Bad.
Other thing #2: Today's song, although I suppose I'd better give you a nudity warning. That bugs me, to be honest. I'm definitely on the side of those who think it's ridiculous that our society condones showing all kinds of graphic violence but completely freaks out at the sight of a nipple. I mean, everyone has nipples, right? What's the big deal? Having said that, this particular video has more than nipples, so if that sends you into hysterics don't bother to click the link.
If you do, though, I'll just say that the main reason for today's choice is that I find it really funny that a few years ago a car company chose it for their commercials. They must have heard "you've got a great car" and "I like you" and thought it would be perfect or something. Did they not notice that the very next line after the great car bit asks what's wrong with it today? The commercial always made me laugh, because it's so very common for ad companies to choose something that sounds "right" without bothering to find out the context of the song. If you're musically inclined at all it can be fun to play Let's Find the Inappropriate Song Choice, especially during the holidays.
Well, it's fun for me, anyway.
Speaking of holidays, it's time to talk pie.
Yes, finally.
It's Thanksgiving weekend here in Canada, and Dad and I will be having our turkey supper today. Since it's just the two of us we don't go to a big fuss, but we still manage to have a pretty decent meal. The turkey is small enough to fit in the rotisserie so we don't have the bother of oven-roasting (and besides, rotisserie turkey is only about fifty billion times better than oven-roasted. It stays moist, it's more evenly cooked, and, frankly, the taste tops any oven bird you'd care to show me), most of our fixings will be of the convenience variety; yeah, I know it's not gourmet, but as long as it tastes good that really doesn't matter to me.
One thing that seems to happen every year, however, occurs towards the end of the eating. I'll be enjoying my most-likely-too-big plateful, and it'll suddenly come to mind that it would have been nice to have a pumpkin pie for dessert. I'm a fan of pumpkin pie, you see. Actually I'm a fan of pie in general, so I guess it's kind of stupid that I've never made one. Stupid on the surface, anyway. In reality, it has a fair bit to do with the way I was brought up. The females in my mother's family had this weird sort of detente, you see. I've mentioned it before, but for those new to the program my mother's family was pretty competitive, and whether it was accidental or on purpose it seemed like the way to keep the peace on the feminine side was to not step on anyone else's talent. My grandmother canned, so my mother didn't. My grandmother knitted, so my mother crocheted. My grandmother made pies, so my mother made cookies.
As a result, I don't know how to make pie crust. Come to it, I'm sort of surprised that Mom ever taught me the whole cookie thing.
Anyway.
I've never made a pie. I could probably figure it out, but I've never tried. I don't usually regret it, but this time of year -- when it's too late, as I said above -- I find myself wishing that I'd made a pumpkin pie. Even if it meant the cop-out of a bought crust, I could still attempt the filling part, right? There's lots of recipes around. Heck... if I checked my mother's recipe box I might even find my grandmother's version. Every year, though, I don't think about it soon enough. And every year I find myself saying to my father that it would have been nice to have a pie.
Kind of pointless, really. Except.
Except that occasionally it gets results. When I came in to Dad's from work yesterday afternoon I opened the fridge to see what I could find for a quick lunch before we went out (more on that another day) and I saw A PIE. Seems that when Dad went down to get a few things for today's dinner he noticed the pies in the bakery and remembered that his idiot daughter bemoans her pieless state every single Thanksgiving, and so he bought me one.
He bought me a pie!
I know it doesn't seem like much, but hey! Pie! And who knows, it might even be a decent pie.
It occurs to me that this very wordy post has had a very anticlimactic ending... Let me see if I can find something to at least wrap it up a little bit. Ok, there you go. Slightly adult. No nudity.
You people and your nudity thing...
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