They inflate the thing every night with an electric pump, and then put the carousel in motion (yes, it really turns – and plays music).
I want pop it, and then set it on fire.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Christmas Carousel
This eyesore appeared in our neighbours' front yard a few weeks ago:
They inflate the thing every night with an electric pump, and then put the carousel in motion (yes, it really turns – and plays music).
I want pop it, and then set it on fire.
They inflate the thing every night with an electric pump, and then put the carousel in motion (yes, it really turns – and plays music).
I want pop it, and then set it on fire.
Turn Citrus Fruit into Eastern Block Marmalade!
While Mr. T’s parents were visiting us in mid-December, I decided that I should learn how to make my favourite toast accompaniment: marmalade. And since Mr. T’s Mom is the family expert on marmelading, I enlisted her help with no resistance on her part (which I think is mostly due to the fact that she’s sick of making and then shipping it across the country).
Our adventures started with this bowl of fruit:
We had to score the fruit, then remove the peels, and *then* remove all of the white stuff from the inside of the peel. Mr. T’s Mom made it look so simple (like in an infomercial) when she explained: “It’s like filleting a fish,” and the proceeded to show me how effortless it was. “Hey, no problem,” I thought. Then, she quickly disappeared and left me to my task. I finished an hour and a half later. Not. So. Easy.
After filleting my citrus babies, the tendons in my right forearm felt as though I had been typing for 24 hours, nonstop. Who says that carpel tunnel syndrome didn’t affect marmalade factory workers in the 20th century. Well, it may have, but factory workers were non-people back then, and therefore it mustn’t have been a problem…
With the hardest part behind me, I quickly chopped up the whiteless rinds and fruit, threw them into a pot with (5 cups!!!) of sugar, some water and a pouch of Certo, and voilà, marmalade:
Doesn’t it look like an advertisement for East block marmalade circa 1978? I suppose the Cyrillic characters help (just a bit).
If you’ve got some extra time on your hands (and some strong tendons), you too can make your very own marmalade by following the official Certo recipe here. I'm told that "No other recipe works as well as the Certo recipe." I think that Mr. T's Mom is working for Kraft.
PS I don’t remember putting butter/margarine in my recipe.
Our adventures started with this bowl of fruit:
We had to score the fruit, then remove the peels, and *then* remove all of the white stuff from the inside of the peel. Mr. T’s Mom made it look so simple (like in an infomercial) when she explained: “It’s like filleting a fish,” and the proceeded to show me how effortless it was. “Hey, no problem,” I thought. Then, she quickly disappeared and left me to my task. I finished an hour and a half later. Not. So. Easy.
After filleting my citrus babies, the tendons in my right forearm felt as though I had been typing for 24 hours, nonstop. Who says that carpel tunnel syndrome didn’t affect marmalade factory workers in the 20th century. Well, it may have, but factory workers were non-people back then, and therefore it mustn’t have been a problem…With the hardest part behind me, I quickly chopped up the whiteless rinds and fruit, threw them into a pot with (5 cups!!!) of sugar, some water and a pouch of Certo, and voilà, marmalade:
Doesn’t it look like an advertisement for East block marmalade circa 1978? I suppose the Cyrillic characters help (just a bit).
If you’ve got some extra time on your hands (and some strong tendons), you too can make your very own marmalade by following the official Certo recipe here. I'm told that "No other recipe works as well as the Certo recipe." I think that Mr. T's Mom is working for Kraft.
PS I don’t remember putting butter/margarine in my recipe.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Gwen
For all of you Margaret Cho fans out there, this one's for you! My sista recently brought this clip to my attention. Take a moment to watch the whole thing. Since the inital viewing, I’ve watched the segment several times when I need a good chuckle. If this doesn’t make you laugh, you’ve got to get your funny bone replaced.
Enjoy!
Enjoy!
Holiday Party Raffle Kings
As I sit here prematurely listening to “Happy New Year” by Abba, I realize that we have been in full holiday swing for the last two weekends. In an attempt to appease the clamouring masses of devoted bFab readers, I have decided that it will be a double-post Sunday.
Last night was Mr. T’s work holiday party. So, we both got dolled up in our most monochromatic attire. The exception was Mr. T’s red pocket square (which I learned, is not the same thing as a hanky) in his jacket pocket: demonstrating his holiday spirit. I held myself back from putting in one of his back pockets.
All in all, one of the best holiday parties in recent years. It helped that Mr. T wasn’t organizing this year – so I wasn’t constantly being abandoned for people unhappy with the seating arrangements and MC/Raffle duties.
Speaking of raffles, we raked in this year, and strangely, we won all of the booze related gifts:
Gift certificates for the SAQ, Bailey’s, the Port was a gift, but ended up in the picture anyhow. But I would like to draw your attention to the lovely giant champagne glass (circa 1983) filled with Czech chocolate. In case you can’t make it out in the first picture, the next image, with a quarter as a marker to help you appreciate the scale.
The candy wrappers remind me of chocolates that my Baba used to give me when I was a kid. But, then I tasted a few. Not as good as I remember -- or they aren’t the same brand of chocolates. Alas, we smuggled the monstrosity home only to realize neither of us like the candy, and as Mr. T said, “The glass is recyclable, right?” Thank goodness recycling comes tomorrow – I was starting to get the urge to hop into a bubble bath with my man and sip back some Baby Duck (that is of course, after crimping my hair).
Last night was Mr. T’s work holiday party. So, we both got dolled up in our most monochromatic attire. The exception was Mr. T’s red pocket square (which I learned, is not the same thing as a hanky) in his jacket pocket: demonstrating his holiday spirit. I held myself back from putting in one of his back pockets.
All in all, one of the best holiday parties in recent years. It helped that Mr. T wasn’t organizing this year – so I wasn’t constantly being abandoned for people unhappy with the seating arrangements and MC/Raffle duties.
Speaking of raffles, we raked in this year, and strangely, we won all of the booze related gifts:Gift certificates for the SAQ, Bailey’s, the Port was a gift, but ended up in the picture anyhow. But I would like to draw your attention to the lovely giant champagne glass (circa 1983) filled with Czech chocolate. In case you can’t make it out in the first picture, the next image, with a quarter as a marker to help you appreciate the scale.
The candy wrappers remind me of chocolates that my Baba used to give me when I was a kid. But, then I tasted a few. Not as good as I remember -- or they aren’t the same brand of chocolates. Alas, we smuggled the monstrosity home only to realize neither of us like the candy, and as Mr. T said, “The glass is recyclable, right?” Thank goodness recycling comes tomorrow – I was starting to get the urge to hop into a bubble bath with my man and sip back some Baby Duck (that is of course, after crimping my hair).
Friday, December 08, 2006
Il fait beau dans l’métro!
Un p'tit vidéo pour vous rappelé comment c'est l'fun de prendre le métro (et l'autobus!):
Il me semble que ce n'est pas autant l'fun quand j’essai de transféré à Berri-UQAM en manteaux d'hiver à 8h30 le matin…
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