Patron Saint of Falling Over Things

Yeah, okay, drinking that much, alone, was just stupid. But I reeled off to bed and slept like a rock for twelve hours, and lilacsigil was perky on the phone when I woke up, and I had a batch of ricotta pancake batter in the fridge and bacon to fry in my cast iron pan. (It's just to season the pan, really. Yeah.)

I haven't washed the pan for a week and a bit! Can you believe it? It's starting to get that glassy surface that people spoke of. Things still stick to it, though. Not sure if that's the lack of seasoning or my poor frying skills.

I feel much better. It's one of those cool, dry autumn Sundays that reminds me of the first couple of months living in the country. Everything smells of eucalyptus and woodsmoke. I feel very calm and peaceful. I wish I could make coffee like lilacsigil - mine tastes like crap. But I have a tiny jug of maple syrup sent in one of last year's candy exchanges for my pancakes, and that offsets the vileness of my own coffee. Yeah.

I'm using up some week-old bakepocalypse remnant cake to make a trifle for lilacsigil's return, and I had to call my mum to get the recipe for custard powder custard, because I had thrown the box with the instructions away. (She said "There's a recipe on the box? I've never noticed that." This does explain the haphazard consistency of her custards. Though they are always tasty.) I love making trifle. It's like LEGO with cakes.

Links for lilacsigil, when she's back online - all the things about which I would normally say "Hey, did you see that thing?":

Scott Adams shooting his mouth off, or why I'll never read Dilbert again.

The adorable Doctor Who S6 prequel thingy. Part of what was getting us through the lengthy period of hypothyroidism was the fact that Doctor Who would be back in April. (IT'S NEARLY APRIL NOW, GUYS!)

Cleolinda on the Wicked Pretty Things anthology fail, because it's good to know who will put their money where their mouth is on GLBTQ issues.

Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous Jasika Nicole picspam. Because she is gorgeous. (Please, Fringe! Give Astrid something to do!)

Which reminds me - we haven't seen this week's Fringe, but I know that lilacsigil will want to read people's reviews of the episode. I have newredshoes's here, and musesfool's here - if you have one, can you link it to me here in a non-spoilery way, so that when we're home and have watched the episode, she can find them? So much appreciated.

And now that the trifle is finished and setting in the fridge, I'm making Bounty balls for the nurses. Because good nurses need more chocolate.

The whole point of updating more regularly was supposed to be so that I didn't have to do these massive posts all the time.

*sighs and keeps trying*

Holiday was brief but fun. We saw a pair of brolgas in a paddock with cows. (A brolga is a kind of crane. The ones we saw looked like this.) They were almost as tall as the cows, but had very droll faces. I think they're less frightening than ibis. Ibis scare me - birds shouldn't have proboscises. And things with proboscises shouldn't swarm.

Catching up on TV before the next round of episodes comes along:

( Covert Affairs 1.01 )

( Leverage 3.06: The Studio Job )

( Rizzoli and Isles )

What else? *ponders*

Fringe 2.13 - spoiler-free thoughts.

I have refined my theory on the science of Fringe. In first season, I had to tell myself that it was set in a universe without gloves, where it was okay to touch the gooey, infectious stuff with your fingers, and spread it all over your lab. *shudders*

Today I realised that Fringe is actually asking us for the kind of suspension of disbelief that you see on the stage - a foil-covered crown is really gold and jewels, a row of spear-carriers is an army. I love the show dearly, and even more for its fifties-inspired cardboard and paint colour-coded science. "Ladies and gentlemen, if this swab turns purple, then the fly DNA has merged with the muskrat. Behold!"

Science. It works, bitches. Walter Bishop told me so.