Am feeling so domestic I could spit...

[chaletian]

Am just taking a breather from making curtains to have lunch, viz butternut squash soup I made yesterday (I had a joke about squash, but in between thinking "I have a joke about squash I could insert into this post," and writing the post about the squash, I have forgotten it. Mourn with me). Also, we have tea loaf in the oven and rhubarb awaiting compoting (not composting, as my tricksy fingers attempted to make you believe). I am so thrilled at the thought of having curtains finally in my room, I can't even tell you. If they turn out as I imagine, they will be lovely, and I will take a picture in order to show them off.

This is, clearly, going to turn into another post about how much I love life. Work is being quite jolly (to the extent, if you can believe it, that I'm not dreading going in tomorrow morning). I love FT, and my room, and my nascent curtains, and cooking exciting things, and the fact that I made my butternut squash soup with chicken stock that I made out of an actual chicken, and the prospect of playing with pinking shears, and discovering a new romance author whom I actually like (and who, amazingly, is American and yet can write Regency England perfectly well - even setting it in Derbyshire and not losing me anywhere), and watching Skins which I really like, and having inklings of fic ideas, and reading interesting NCIS meta, and my grandmother being insane in the best possible way, and just everything.

Comments

[katherinea.livejournal.com]

You made chicken stock. How excellent. I am always trying to persuade people that they should do that and they just look at me funny. Still, it means I get to claim all the chicken bones in our house for stock-making as no one else can be bothered.
Nigella says that she goes round scavenging for bones off people’ plates when she is out for dinner and her hosts won’t be making stock!