Monday, December 31, 2007

Ten steps closer to the white Buick

A New Year's Eve story

Saturday night found us meetin up wit da brotha de Zigster and his wife for a pizza at Blarney's Castle. Which is a most unlikely moniker for a huntin/sports themed bar/sandwich/pizza joint. And nary a corned beef sammich on the menu, even.

The pizza there, despite all the fabulous things we've heard about it, was merely...meh. But's close to maybe five blocks if one could compare to the "city"...and they have a carryout window. Especially nice since we've moved to the land of no deliveries.

The company on the other'd be hard to beat. Especially since da brotha has a sense of humor very similar to the Zigster's. Perhaps a bit drier, but quite entertaining, nevertheless.

Now the four of us really have very little in common, other than the obvious sibling link. We don't do the typical family-type things and usually only meet up once a year or so for pizza and beer. But we are all of a similar "baby boomer" age. Me being more "baby" than the rest of the boomers. heh So we usually find a common ground in the whole "getting older" chat. But only after da brotha and da Zigster finish reminiscing about the uncommon number of various oddballs and looney-tunes that inhabited Henry, the little town they grew up in. (I dunno...must be somethin to do with the proximity to the river?)

So we're talkin about the Lasik surgery that da brotha recently had (and I'd love to have) and the fact that he and I now share the pleasure of sleeping attached to a contraption that resembles a World War I gas mask and the whole "now what the hell did I come in here for?" things that we ask ourselves every day. Stuff that sharply illustrates the fact that, despite all our efforts to deny it, we're firmly ensconced...deeply embedded...ok, on the down-hill side of middle age.

Eventually, the conversation somehow turned to driving and those of us who've done slid down to the bottom of previously-mentioned hill...and now drive badly. And slowly. And usually Buicks. heh Sometime after that particular conversation, the wife of da brotha told a little story.

Seems that as they were leaving to meet us, she took a quick glance at da brotha and noticed that the tag that should be on the inside of his snap-brim hat was stickin out and flappin against challenged head. And that he had his down vest on...inside out.

After laughin like hyenas at the little story, (ok, some of it was probably nervous laughter...hit a little close ta home, ya know?) he looked at us and dryly said, "Yup. I'm ten steps closer to that white Buick."

I have a feeling that this is gonna become Ziggy's and my newest favorite catchphrase. We've had plans for a good two months now to attend our yearly New Year's Eve bash in Springfield. It's always a drunken, debauched...uh...I mean great time and we usually look forward to it for weeks. This morning, I got up, grabbed a cuppa and sat down at the table. Zig looked at me and said, "Ya know...I got to thinkin. It's supposed to snow and get really cold tonight. And I'm wonderin about the traffic...." I looked at him and said, "Yea. I don't really wanna go, either."

We look at each other over our coffee cups and simultaneously say, "Ten steps closer to the white Buick."

Now, ya might be askin yerself, "What the hell does all this have to do with a New Year's Eve story?"

Awww, c'mon. You can figure it out, can'tcha?

Another year is gone.

We're all ten steps closer to that white Buick. heh

Here's wishin y'all a safe, healthy, happy New Year. May it be filled with love and laughter.

But no Buicks.

Wednesday, December 26, 2007

While visions of sugarplums danced in her head...

Is there anything sweeter than a sleeping child? Just makes ya wanna go "Awwwwwww...", doesn't it?

We made a flyin trip south on Sunday to have an early Christmas with my babies.

We followed up Sunday night's festivities (and believe me...Ziggy was festive...let's just say that now he knows why they sometimes call tequila "Takillya") with a big ole breakfast at Waffle House on Christmas Eve morning. Hey, we hadda have a little fortification for the flyin-ass drive back, right?

I loooove seein my babies. And I know that they only live about three hours away. But tryin to juggle all the schedules so that we can be together on Christmas (or at least sometime close to Christmas) has become a huge pain in the ass. First, there's Zig's and my work schedules. Mine's not much of a problem, but Ziggy's can change in a matter of minutes. And it often does. Then there's Jules' two jobs to finagle around...and her significant other's 60+ hour workweek...and Karsin's school schedule...and her every other weekend and/or holiday visits with her dad.

Throw a six or seven hour round trip (depending on the traffic) in there and it's just damn near impossible. If Ziggy had any family left to add to the mix, I think my damn head'd esssplode.

This year, it took fifty two emails, eighty seven phone calls, eleven lords a-leaping, a partridge in a pear tree and a sudden, unexpected change in the Zigster's schedule to get'er done.

But next year is gonna be different. I've already inscribed it in stone. Christmas is on a Wednesday next year. And it will be held the beach house on the moon...on the weekend following. Period. No ifs, ands or buts.

Unless somebody's schedule changes.

Friday, December 21, 2007

A Christmas wish for y'all

May you all be blessed with joy, love and laughter this holiday season.

I'd like to cut my ears off and feed 'em to a grizzley bear...

...because I even heard that Britney's 16 year old sister is knocked up by her 19 year old boyfriend. Like I even care. 'Course, no matter what radio station or tv channel ya have on, it's spewing forth like ca-ca from a busted sewer line. Jeeezus. Don't we have enough real news to report?

But when I read this little blurb in the local paper this morning, it made me wonder just what in the hell is the difference between the two stories? Jamie Spears' family is blathering on about what a helluva guy her boyfriend is, whereas this family...well...definitely isn't.

PEKIN - An East Peoria man is in jail for allegedly having sex with a 15-year-old girl he met through church.

Christopher B. McGrew, 21, of 304 Shady Lane faces one count of aggravated criminal sexual abuse in Tazewell County Circuit Court for allegedly having sex with the girl last month.

The girl's father contacted police after learning about an ongoing sexual relationship his daughter was having with McGrew, court records said.

Police said they interviewed the girl and McGrew and both said they had sex on several occasions and as recently as Nov. 10 when McGrew picked the girl up from her friend's house and drove her to East Peoria.

McGrew said he knew the girl through church and through working with her father, court records said.

Now as far as I'm concerned, any adult who takes sexual advantage of a child should be classified a pedophile. They should be jailed (ok, I really think they should be killed, but that's fodder for a whole 'nother post) and, once they're out, they should be monitored. They should be labeled. They should be ordered to register as a sex offender and/or sexual predator.

But I have a problem with situations like the one mentioned in the paper.

Maybe some legal-eagle-type can shed a little light on the subject. Why is it that Little Miss Binkie's boyfriend is A-OK...but this poor schmuck in EP is being charged with "sexual abuse"?

Is it considered "sexual abuse" only if someone kicks up a stink about it?

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

I think I'll title it

Mexican food

I love to paint. But, as with any creative thing I do, I hafta be in the mood. Writing. Painting. Sculpting. Wood carving. Whatever.
I can't just pull it outa nowhere. I really envy people that can do that...people that can create "on demand". Like artists that do portraits or other commissioned works.

Make no mistake about it though, I'm not some moody, angst-driven "artist". I'm a painter. I suppose saying that is the same thing as sayin you're a cook, not a chef. I don't take anything I create too seriously. I suppose that comes from not being formally trained.

But I know what I like. I love color. And I love abstract can kinda imagine them to be...well...whatever you can imagine. I've always believed that art is in the eye of the beholder. It's "art" if you think it is.

And this one reminds me of Mexican food. Or maybe the side effect of Mexican food. heh

Honest ta' gawd, Mr. DEA Agent...

...I said "pot-S"!

Last week, just before my daughter, Jules, flew off for a few days in Cancun (bitch), she called me to give me some last-minute info about flights, times, etc. After that, the conversation turned a little...odd.

Me: "Ooooo...bring me back somethin from Mexico!"

Jules: "Ok, whatcha want?"

Me: "Um....."

Me: "Oooo...I know! Bring me back some Mexican pots."

Jules: .....

Jules: "Uh..."

Jules: "Ya know, they check the luggage pretty carefully."

Me: ......

Me: "Nooooo! I said POTS. Mexican POTS. POTTERY."

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Bueller? Bueller? Anyone?

Can anyone tell me what this old dollie and Peoria's idea of "enforcing" the new state-wide smoking ban have in common? Anyone?

From WEEK:
The city of Peoria turns down money from those who decide to illegally light up indoors. The City Council last night rejected a "Peoria Smoke Free Ordinance"

City smoking ban or not, Peoria will be smoke free come January first because it's state law. But, a city ordinance banning smoking would allow Peoria to collect all money from violators. Now, the city will only get half the money from a fine because it's enforcing a state law.

Not having a city ordinance to prevent people from lighting up indoors, is not a bright idea in the mind of Councilman Ryan Spain. Spain voted for the ordinance and said, "I believe by voting for the ordinance it gave us more latitude to recoup some of the revenue to enforce this smoking measure."

That's why Spain says its silly when other council members voted against the Peoria ban calling it an unfunded mandate or that it'll hurt business...because this law is already reality with the state. "I'm worried it's sending the wrong message to people in the city of Peoria and across the state in that Peoria it's ok to not follow the laws that were made and we're not going to enforce those laws as vigorously as others."

Peoria Police Chief Steve Settingsgaard already calls smoking enforcement his lowest priority. "Our plan is if a call comes in for a smoking violation, we're going to refer the caller to 1-800 number that was provided by the state and we will not dispatch a police car."

The smoking fines can be hefty, up to $2,500 for a business. And, city leaders say a local ordinance is easier to enforce. Peoria City manager Randy Oliver said, "It would work to some extent like a parking ticket violation."

So instead of paying at city hall, a violator will now pay at the county courthouse.

That's only if they get caught.

Saturday, December 15, 2007


...the weather outside is frightful...

...but the fire is so delightful...

...and since we've no place to go, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow...

Aaaaand, on such an icky, snowy day, what better thing to do than bake...

...chocolate chip cookies...

...and cinnamon sugar cookies...

...and pecan sugar cookies...

...and, hey...while the oven is on, howz about takin some country-style ribs, slatherin 'em with some Loosyana Hot Sauce, throwin 'em in a screamin hot oven to sear, coverin 'em with some foil, turnin the oven down and lettin 'em sloooooow cook for a couplathree hours, then slatherin 'em wit' some Sweet Baby Ray's and turnin the oven back up so's the barbeque sauce gets all caramelly and gooey? Howz about that?

I know I've said before that I don't bake. I guess I should have said, I don't bake...from scratch. Thank gawd for those little Betty Crocker (or in this case, Kroger-brand) cookie mixes. All ya do is add egg and butter and voila! Homemade (sorta) cookies!

I can't even begin to tell you how damn cozy our little river-side digs are...especially on a day like this. Knotty pine just isn't my idea of style. But for this little house, it just fits. And that fireplace? Actually, it's an entertainment center/bookcase/fireplace of our own design. It started out as just a plain ole entertainment center from Targay. I painted it black, Zig dismantled the drawer that was in the center and replaced it with a fake log/light thingy and covered it with plexi. It even crackles, too...sounds like a real fireplace. It doesn't throw out any heat, but ohhhh, the ambience. It just makes ya feel warm. We're thinkin seriously about installin a gas fireplace (the ole knotty pine just screams for a fireplace, doncha think?), but until we do, this is the next best thing. on the list of things to do on a cold, snowy day with the scent of freshly-baked cookies and spicy, succulent ribs wafting about?

Wrap Christmas presents!

I'm tellin ya...on such a cold, icky day like this? Livin in a house like this? With my bestest friend in the whole world? With no place we have to go?

Yea. Life is good.

Friday, December 14, 2007


Red sky at night, sailor's sky at morn, sailors be warned.

At least that's whut me dear ole dad usta say. Might be some kinda old sailor's tale, but it seems to me like it's mostly right. The sky was especially pretty this morning...and we're supposed to get hit with a big snow, starting tonight/early tomorrow. Thank gawd we're not on the east coast, though. We lucked out on the prognosticated ice storm earlier this week, so I suppose it's our turn. I'd rather have snow than ice, anywho.

This little guy chowed down on some dried pumpkin cake we'd had left over from Thanksgiving. But then I think he was tryin to figure out if the red feather boa on the Christmas tree might be some competition...or maybe an unlucky relative.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

I'm on a YouTube kick

This one made me laugh out loud.

I can't let Stewie see this, though. I don't think he's thought about a ball bat. Yet.

  • Joe
  • !

    Tuesday, December 11, 2007

    Opera, schmopera

    I normally lump opera right down there with old-timey "honkey-tonk" music. With the very rare exception, I never cared for either one.

    This is one of the "rare exceptions". I suppose it can't really be classified as opera in the true sense of the word. It's a single song, composed for the movie "Hannibal" and also used in "Kingdom of Heaven"...which is what I'm watching right now. I recognized the music and had to go looking for it. It's titled "Vide Cor Meum" and no...I have no idea what that translates as.

    Though it's sung in Italian/Latin (according to Wikipedia), and it damn near brings me to tears every time I hear it, the English lyrics are nearly as beautiful written as they are sung.

    Chorus: And thinking of her
    Sweet sleep overcame me

    I am your master
    See your heart
    And of this burning heart
    Your heart
    (Chorus: She trembling)
    Obediently eats.
    Weeping, I saw him then depart from me.

    Joy is converted
    To bitterest tears

    I am in peace
    My heart
    I am in peace
    See my heart

    Monday, December 10, 2007

    Ice Ice Baby

    Or snot-blogging

    Sounds like we're in for it. We've had some...slicker'n snot earlier today. And speakin of snot, take a look at ole Abe's nose.

    Aaaaaaanyway...the forecast sounds like...well...shit. But after is Illinois.

    TONIGHT - Freezing Rain. And Isolated Thunderstorms. Ice Accumulation Around One Quarter Of An Inch. Near Steady Temperature In The Upper 20s. Light East Winds. Chance Of Precipitation Near 100 Percent.
    Freezing Rain
    Lo: 29° F

    TUESDAY - Freezing Rain. Ice Accumulation Of Up To One Quarter Of An Inch. Highs In The Lower 30s. North Winds 5 To 10 Mph. Chance Of Precipitation Near 100 Percent.
    Freezing Rain
    Hi: 31° F

    TUESDAY NIGHT - Freezing Rain. Ice Accumulation Of Up To One Quarter Of An Inch. Lows In The Lower 20s. North Winds 10 To 15 Mph. Chance Of Precipitation 80 Percent.
    Freezing Rain
    Lo: 21° F

    WEDNESDAY - Cloudy With A 50 Percent Chance Of Freezing Rain. Highs Around 30. North Winds 5 To 10 Mph.
    Freezing Rain
    Hi: 30° F

    WEDNESDAY NIGHT - Cloudy With A 50 Percent Chance Of Snow. Lows In The Lower 20s. Light East Winds Becoming Southwest After Midnight.
    Chance of Snow
    Lo: 21° F

    Overheard conversations

    (After watching a variety of programs on the History Channel yesterday.)

    "Awww, I don't wanna know anything else about Nostradamus. Besides that, their football team isn't doin so good this year."

    Friday, December 07, 2007

    Dear Prudence

    A letter to myself at age 13.

    Though I'd like to say I thunk this up wit' my own pointy little head, in fact, I swiped it from
  • Beach Bum
  • . I'm also tryin to make up for the fact that I neglected to follow up on a meme he tagged me with whilst I was in the midst of my blogging funk.

    Anywho, I thought it was a great idea...I was just age 13. And, after all, it is the...uh...(coughfortiethcough)...anniversary of my thirteenth year.

    Dear Pammy,

    Um. Chill out, little sista. I know you're thirteen...goin on twenty four...but don't be in such a damn rush. I know you hear this from Mom and Dad
    every. single. day., but'll grow up fast enough. And before you know it, you'll be an old, fat, happy woman. Like me. Writing letters to your thirteen-year-old self.

    Good gawd, though! What is it with that hair? Why on earth did you think it would be a good idea to wash your hair, put it in teeny braids while still wet and let it dry? I'm really sorry sweetie, but no matter what you do to that blonde hair, it ain't never gonna look like Janis', ok? Besides that, I'm not so sure Janis ever washed that messa hair in the first place.

    I've gotta admit, though...the jeans with the leather lacings up the side are kinda cool. I know you put a lotta work into those and they're your favorites. And that red t-shirt with the yellow satin appliqued apple with a bite mark across your buxom little chest is pretty groovy, too.

    Oh...and for the love of everything that's holy, will you please turn down that damn stereo?? If I hafta hear "All You Need is Love" one more time, I believe I'll stuff some gasoline-soaked rags into my ears and light ' Molotov Cocktails.

    All you need is love....ya da da da da...all you need is love...ya da da da da....

    (Yea...there's really more.)

    Yea. I know. Summer of Love. (snort) That's what they're callin the summer of '67, ain't it? Not a whole lotta love comin from ole Walter's mouth every evening on the news though, is there? Gulf of Tonkin. Que Son Valley. Mekong Delta. Phnom Penh. Body counts. Race riots. War protests. Albert DeSalvo convicted. Richard Speck sentenced to death.

    It's a lot to take in for a thirteen year old, ain't it? Kinda makes ya think maybe you should grow up fast...the world might not be here for too long. Duck and cover! But, really...things aren't much different now. The old world kept on turnin, didn't it?

    Hey, but the music's pretty great right now, huh? Aretha singin "Respect". "Penny Lane" is awesome. "Kind of a Drag"...they play that over and over and over on the jukebox in the gym during lunch hour, don't they? Believe it or not, one day, there'll be radio stations that play nothin but "your" music...and they'll call it "oldies"! Ain't that a hoot?'ll never guess! The Rolling Stones are still playin. Ok, so poor ole Keith looks like he's been dead for ten years and nobody's told him yet, but hey...
    Oh, and Dylan? He's still here. So's Rod Stewart. But...uh...well, honey...I don't know how to tell ya this, but there's only two Beatles left. And neither of 'em were your favorites. But you'll find that out. Soon enough. And soooo many others are gone. Your beloved John. Janis. Jimi. Jim. Liberace. heh

    Just slow down. Try to take time to savor every single minute 'cause really does fly, honey. One day, you'll wish you'd have taken a little more time. One day, you'll wish you had a little more time. I know that right now it seems like the days and the weeks and the months just drag. But it won't be like that forever.

    And, guess what? Breakin up with whoever this week's boyfriend is really isn't the end of the world. You won't die. Believe it or not, one day, your prince will come. He won't be on a white horse, though. And he won't bring you flowers. He'll be in a big ole Ram Charger with loud mufflers and he'll bring you a cluster of the biggest purple grapes you've ever seen and you'll just swoon from love. Oh, you'll have a couple of other "princes" in the meantime. But they'll just be practice.

    Slow down. Pay attention to what's goin on in your world. Even the bad stuff. Like President Johnson. Now, that was some pretty bad stuff, right there. One day, you'll love history. And it'll be nice to say you remember that. And the stuff you don't remember? There'll be somethin called "Wikipedia" on somethin called "The Internet" that you can access on somethin called a "computer". Yea, nothin like that in your world right now, is there?

    Imagine! Who woulda thunk that they could transplant a human heart? Did you pay attention to Walter when he announced that on the evening news? You wouldn't belive what they're doin now. "Technology". Do you even know what that word is? You'll learn. And you'll learn that sometimes, it's wonderful. And sometimes, it's a pain in the ass. Like cell phones.

    Yea, try to remember the bad stuff, too. The good stuff's easy. And some things you'll remember and won't even know why. Like how John's shirt smelled when you went to the Lawford together and saw "Bonnie and Clyde". Or that you saw "Georgy Girl" in Charleston with Sandy. Or that you and Mom and Dad would watch "Wild Kingdom with Marlin Perkins" every Sunday evening.

    And while we're on the subject of animals...gawd...please don't be in such a rush to explore your sexuality. Though, I suppose if you have to do it, now will be one of the safest times in history. Ya might get the clap, but you won't die from it. One of these days, you'll start hearin somethin about a new disease called AIDS. And the "Summer of Love" will be sooooooo over.

    I know. You're hormones are bouncin around like bullets from an AK-57 with the trigger stuck on and you wanna know what it's all about. I know what I'm talkin about here, honey. You're aren't gonna really know until you've got a little maturity. And you aren't gonna keep a boyfriend by puttin out. Really. Honest ta gawd, he'll respect ya more if you say 'no'. (Can you say "no"? Watch my lips..."NOOOOOOO") And if he doesn't, then he's not worthy of you, anyway. Screw 'im. Figuratively, not literally, ok?

    One wonderful thing will come from your eventual "experimentation", though. A beautiful, funny daughter. And she'll have a beautiful, funny daughter that looks just like you. You'll have a little "Mini-me". Cool, huh?

    And ya know what else? Stop worrying so much about what other kids think of you. In a few years...or a couple of months, probably, it won't matter a damn bit what they thought of you. I've gotta tell you, though...I do admire your sense of individuality. When other kids follow along like the sheeple they'll eventually become, you kinda go your own way. That's a good thing. But why do you worry so much about it? It's great, really. One day, you'll be sooooo glad you're the way you are now. Oh, and I know you worry about your weight. Doncha hate it when Mom starts in..."Pam, you have such a pretty face...if only you'd lose some weight..." Yea. And then she bitches at ya for not eating. You'll finally figure out that there's just no pleasing her. That's something that'll take you years to learn, though.

    I kinda hate to tell you this, but you'll always be this way. Chunky. Chubby. Fat. Start accepting it, honey. Embrace it. Take that great sense of individuality you've been blessed with and be what you are...who you you are. (Does that make any sense?) Honest ta gawd. If I'm lyin, I'm dyin, but there are boys that like fat girls. You'll rarely get one to admit it, but it's true.

    Pay attention to everything. Try to soak it all up. This...this one of the most exciting, most wonderful, most awful, most tragic times in history. So many things are happening. "Hair" just came out on Broadway. (No, pleeeeease don't do the braid thing again, 'k?) Elvis and Priscilla got married. The Monterey Pop Festival "happened". Movies like "The Graduate", "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner" and "In the Heat of the Night" will become classics. The Vietnam War happened. And happened. And happened. The Six Day War happened.

    I know you're gettin tired of my rambling, disjointed letter, but one last piece of advice. Ok, two. Don't sweat the small stuff and no regrets. The small stuff is just that. Small. And in the greater scheme of things most of it is small. And don't waste any of your precious time regretting things that you do. And, let's face it, you've done some pretty stupid things. And you'll do a lot more before it's over. Don't regret any of it. Let's call it a "learning experience", ok? You really were an ok kid and you'll turn out to be an ok adult. You'll hurt people...that's part of life...but you'll never have done it for the sole purpose of hurting someone else.

    Ya did your fair share of dope smokin. But ya never turned into a true-blue "doper". Ya did your fair share of drinkin, too...most of it looooong before it was legal...but ya didn't turn into an alcoholic. You've never been in jail. You'll wind up graduating from college with honors even though you hate school now. You'll turn out to be an optimist, despite all this teenage angst. With a very few rare exceptions, you'll always try to treat other people the way you'd wanna be treated. You're kinda selfish, but not to an extreme. You'll always be that way.

    Nope. No regrets. You'll turn out exactly the way you're supposed to. It's like....Karma, man.

    Peace and Love,


    Tuesday, December 04, 2007

    Stuff I like

    Peacock feathers. Blink

    Monday, December 03, 2007

    I know. A buck's a buck....

    ...but...well...just damn!

    Just caught a commercial for Time-Life's "Flower Power" CD collection. "Hippie music". My music. The collection sounds great...I wouldn't mind havin it.

    Though I wasn't actually watchin the boob tube at the time, I thought I recognized the voice.

    So I looked. And I think my heart cracked a little bit.

    He was the very pinnacle of my young, post-pubescent sexual fantasies. Free. Wild. Gorgeous. Thumbin his nose and flippin the bird at the establishment. And he rode a Harley. To this very day, the sound of a Harley just...moves me. It does somethin to me. It makes my girl-parts twitch.

    And it's all because of him.

    Mr. "Free and Wild". Mr. "Love the One You're With". Mr. "Anti-establishment", himself.

    Peter Fonda.

    Sniff. Sniff.

    It's a "POBBLER", ok?

    Said in my best Eric Cartman voice...."Thcrew you, Martha Sthewart...I can too bake!"

    The thing is though, while I'm a damn good cook, I can't bake. Not well, anyway. Not by any stretch of the imagination. A long time ago, I made it my policy to never bake another pie or cake or batch of cookies. It just ain't pretty, people. For whatever reason, the kitchen always winds up lookin like a nuclear bomb exploded in a flour factory.

    So, why'd I try it again?

    Because the Granny Smith apples were such a pretty shade of green.


    I know Grannies aren't a really good eating apple...too tart. But they're supposed to be a great pie apple (not that I'd know...I don't bake stuff like pies). But they were soooooo pretty.

    So rather than buy 'em and let 'em sit on the counter for decoration and eventually rot, I tried a pie.

    Except...I don't own a pie pan. Because I don't bake, see? But I did have a round cake pan. Not that I use it for cakes, you understand. Because I don't bake, right?. It's handy for other things I cook in the oven.

    But the cake pan's like...round, right? Kinda like a pie pan. Sorta.

    And the pie dough I bought (you didn't think I'd actually do something crazy like make my own pie dough, didja?) was round...not you'd do a cobbler with. (Cobblers are square, aren't they?)

    So I made a "pobbler".

    Not bad. At least, it doesn't look bad.

    The kitchen, however.....