Nom de Plume

I just crockpotted a whole chicken–just took the skin off and threw it in there with a can of tomatoes, an onion, some garlic, and some marjoram. Pretty cool. Except for the fact that the stupid knob on the lid fell off, and it turns out that when you factor in shipping for a replacement part, it would actually be less expensive to haul myself down to Fred Meyer and buy a new one. Which is one of those things that just makes you grumpy because it shouldn’t be cheaper to be more wasteful, but I guess that’s the way it goes.

Anyway, in my webbish peregrinations searching for a new lid (or better yet, just the KNOB) I came across this lovely gem of complete and utter crap.

I mean, who writes this stuff anyway?

A company called Sneakin Design, that’s who. And guess what? They’re recruiting! Yes, that’s right, they’re looking for writers (“The only requirements are that you can read and write in American English… That’s it!”), and you too can join the ranks of people making 50 Phillipino pesos per article.

Obviously, someone’s making money on these advertising-driven pages, but it’s certainly not these poor (in every sense of the word) writers.

Anyway, I was curious about whether there would be any more gems in the registered users area, so I registered. I now have the opportunity to submit two sample articles to see if they like my work. Better yet, I don’t have to scout around for topics either, because they’ve given me some to choose from:

Gonorrhea
Gall-Bladder
Gardening
Oil-Painting
Credit-Cards

Woohoo!

We’re going to Rockford for Christmas, but my mother said that if she doesn’t have anything going on–i.e., friends descending on her–she’ll hop a plane and then come up here. But then she asked (with more than just a note of suspicion in her voice) whether we have an oven yet.

And of course, the answer is no.

The good news is that the Kamado is pretty amazing. I’ve even been baking bread in it, believe it or not. But the bad news is that we’ve been ovenless since February.

Yes, February. That’s when Steve and Dave killed something in the oven when they dragged it outside.

Steve has a contact over at one of the appliance stores in town who might get him a special deal. He came home the other day saying that we were getting one of those flat topped electric jobbers. I really don’t want one; I’ve read nothing but bad things about them. What I really want is gas–not that I’m a good enough cook to really be able to tell the difference, but it seems to me that if we’re going to spend the money, we might as well get something we really like.

The problem is that getting gas requires plumbing the gas line from the furnace. I begged and pleaded, and finally Steve said, “Fine. You deal with getting it installed.”

Fair enough. I have three people coming week after next to give us an estimate. So we could conceivably have a new stove within a few short weeks.

Now I just have to return the IKEA kitchen cabinet doors we broke down and bought–and then decided we didn’t like.

One final note before I get back to work: You know you’re getting old and matronly when your boyfriend gives you a KitchenAid mixer for your birthday–and you’re thrilled about it.