Saturday, June 28, 2008

Bloody hell. I put in this entire entry once before (and blogger disconnected and kicked me off and didn't publish it, but I wasn't mad, oh no, even though the entry was the length of the Foucault's entire "History of Sexuality" trilogy, and even though there's no chance I'll ever manage to be as witty and engaging a second time as I was the first). SO.

Since I've had a lot of time on my hands lately, I've taken up baking. Biscotti on Tuesday, pralines (using Scalpel's recipe--delicious!) on Wednesday, cupcakes yesterday...and today, the coup de grace, for a dinner party at the home of one of the nicest little Southern women you could imagine (seriously, the first time I ever heard Paula Deen on TV I dropped what I was doing and went in to watch, because Paula's accent and inflection is just. like. hers. Or vice-versa; I don't know who was born first. Also, she was my AP Government teacher and worked for the FBI for a bazillion years before that. She's five foot nothing IN heels, genteel and ladylike, a Rose of Texas, blah blah blah, but word on the street is she's pretty damn handy with a Beretta; she's quite a smoker; and when she's mad she plays fast and loose with profanity. Like Scarlett O'Hara transplanted into a Patricia Cornwell novel. Kind of bizarre). It's...sweet potato pie!

More in a bit; I would just save and come back, but my trust in Blogger is temporarily down.

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