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Thursday was Thanksgiving, and I have an entry coming about that.
Friday, mostly I slept. I did, however, sew snaps on a certain crocheting project and a certain rainbow hat, to the utter brain-breaking and giggling awe of certain bits of the internet. I have an entry coming about that as well.
Saturday, there was also a lot of sleep, and I didn't try to win NaNo at the last minute. I'm feeling as if I should be disappointed with myself, but also wondering if there's something Wrong With Me. Not Trying on that level is a warning sign to me.
Today, I woke up with an ouchy foot, napped some more, woke up less ouchy, and then prepared for Fruitcake! I wound up going to five different stores -- Costco, Trader Joe's, Safeway, the market next to Safeway, and then D Town -- for the bits and bobs. I will in fact have dried fruits out the wazoo for the next while, given that I wanted a sufficient diversity but go larger bits.
I dropped by my aunt's anyway, even though it was probably Too Late For Fruitcake by that time, and came in for a cuppa and a gossip.
In the continuing saga of the firepit at work, I am keeping a running tally of the tech dudes I have observed picking up rocks from the firepit to see if they're hot. The firepit is a great wide metal bowl with a gas-fire mechanism in the middle. The firepit is filled with lava rocks and chunks of colorful glass, concealing most of the mechanism save for the ignition bit in the center. So the middle of the pit is full of flame and is hot. The further away from the fire you get, the cooler everything is, until you reach the edge, which is only slightly above ambient temperature, and that's if the thing has been on. Therefore various tech dudes have been reaching in to parts of the fire pit that are not on fire, and picking up rocks to see if they're hot.
The tally has reached four so far. Five if you count the following moment with Mr. Zune:
Something from within the fire pit cracked loudly.
"What just hit me?" asked Mr. Zune, reaching for the shard that had bounced off a colleague and then bounced off him.
"Ow that's hot!" exclaimed Mr. Zune, dropping the shard like the proverbial hot potato. "THE ROCK HIT ME FIRST, OKAY?"
(Mr. Zune is, in fact, the guy for whom the "nor overly clever" rule was put in place.)
Subsequent discussion with The Renaissance Man and lb on how to actually reproduce the fire pit spitting hot rock at bystanders involved two guys with slingshots, one on the nearby grassy knoll and the other on a further-away balcony. The idea would be to fire a rock in to the pit, and have another bounce out in the correct direction, billiards style.
My co-workers are brilliant, though perhaps not always practical. (The actual delivery of the idea in person involves some tricky timing when actually stating the phrase "grassy knoll", ideally involving a mouthful of liquid.)
My aunt pointed out that 1/3 of a cup of rum really wasn't enough for a proper batch of fruitcake, and that fruitcakes in her experience involved some soaking. Which made the 1.75l bottle of Captain Morgan look less like overkill, and more like 3/4 empty, after I stuffed the raisins, and the dried apples, and half the pineapple, not to mention apricots and some blueberries and some cherries and just a sprinkling of pecans into a large jug and then emptied some of the good Captain all over them. So now my raisins are ruminating. My aunt and I will be mixing stuff up on Friday after work. Whee!
Friday, mostly I slept. I did, however, sew snaps on a certain crocheting project and a certain rainbow hat, to the utter brain-breaking and giggling awe of certain bits of the internet. I have an entry coming about that as well.
Saturday, there was also a lot of sleep, and I didn't try to win NaNo at the last minute. I'm feeling as if I should be disappointed with myself, but also wondering if there's something Wrong With Me. Not Trying on that level is a warning sign to me.
Today, I woke up with an ouchy foot, napped some more, woke up less ouchy, and then prepared for Fruitcake! I wound up going to five different stores -- Costco, Trader Joe's, Safeway, the market next to Safeway, and then D Town -- for the bits and bobs. I will in fact have dried fruits out the wazoo for the next while, given that I wanted a sufficient diversity but go larger bits.
I dropped by my aunt's anyway, even though it was probably Too Late For Fruitcake by that time, and came in for a cuppa and a gossip.
In the continuing saga of the firepit at work, I am keeping a running tally of the tech dudes I have observed picking up rocks from the firepit to see if they're hot. The firepit is a great wide metal bowl with a gas-fire mechanism in the middle. The firepit is filled with lava rocks and chunks of colorful glass, concealing most of the mechanism save for the ignition bit in the center. So the middle of the pit is full of flame and is hot. The further away from the fire you get, the cooler everything is, until you reach the edge, which is only slightly above ambient temperature, and that's if the thing has been on. Therefore various tech dudes have been reaching in to parts of the fire pit that are not on fire, and picking up rocks to see if they're hot.
The tally has reached four so far. Five if you count the following moment with Mr. Zune:
Something from within the fire pit cracked loudly.
"What just hit me?" asked Mr. Zune, reaching for the shard that had bounced off a colleague and then bounced off him.
"Ow that's hot!" exclaimed Mr. Zune, dropping the shard like the proverbial hot potato. "THE ROCK HIT ME FIRST, OKAY?"
(Mr. Zune is, in fact, the guy for whom the "nor overly clever" rule was put in place.)
Subsequent discussion with The Renaissance Man and lb on how to actually reproduce the fire pit spitting hot rock at bystanders involved two guys with slingshots, one on the nearby grassy knoll and the other on a further-away balcony. The idea would be to fire a rock in to the pit, and have another bounce out in the correct direction, billiards style.
My co-workers are brilliant, though perhaps not always practical. (The actual delivery of the idea in person involves some tricky timing when actually stating the phrase "grassy knoll", ideally involving a mouthful of liquid.)
My aunt pointed out that 1/3 of a cup of rum really wasn't enough for a proper batch of fruitcake, and that fruitcakes in her experience involved some soaking. Which made the 1.75l bottle of Captain Morgan look less like overkill, and more like 3/4 empty, after I stuffed the raisins, and the dried apples, and half the pineapple, not to mention apricots and some blueberries and some cherries and just a sprinkling of pecans into a large jug and then emptied some of the good Captain all over them. So now my raisins are ruminating. My aunt and I will be mixing stuff up on Friday after work. Whee!
