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I have been made aware of impending raid plans, and so have drawn a handy explanation.
(There are four druids in this picture. Can you find three?)
What a treat this morning to roll out of bed and have tea and cake for breakfast while watching the latest Doctor Who Christmas special! Of course we could have sat and watched it last night, but television without ads is the way to go, as far as I’m concerned. And cake for breakfast with the Doctor? Well, really, it doesn’t get much better.
The title of this entry comes from the snippets at the end of the episode that show what’s to come in the season this spring, btw, and I’m stoked! Dr. Song was all over those clips, and I’ve been taken with her since the Library episodes with Donna in season four.
The Four Conversational Maxims
A. Maxims of quality
1. Do not say what your believe to be false.
2. Do not say that for which you lack adequate evidence.B. Maxims of quantity
1. Make your contribution as informative as required.
2. Do not make your contribution more informative than is required.C. Maxim of relation
1. Be relevant.D. Maxims of manner
1. Avoid obscurity of expression.
2. Avoid ambiguity.
3. Be brief.
4. Be orderly.
Grice was so smart.
Oh, Fox Kit pet, what a journey to find you!
It took roughly ten hours, spread over two weeks, for this little one to drop. I was officially sick of popping Baradin Foxes a few days ago. More to say, I was sick of being killed while popping foxes days ago. When the pet finally dropped, I squeed over vent and proclaimed that I wasn’t coming back to Tol Barad for at least a week. I’m pretty sure I used joyful profanity, even.
Baradin Foxes are only found in the zone of Tol Barad, where the PvP lives. It’s like Wintergrasp, only with less herbs, no flying, and not quite as fun of a battle. Well… that said, maybe it’s more like AV… Anyway, it’s a battleground and there’s gankage and corpse camping aplenty. Sometime I’ll have to start dailies there, because the quartermaster has some good stuff for sale if you have rep, but not this week.
This is what my bags looked like after a typical session of hunting –
That’s a lot of fangs, my friend. A lot of fangs and a lot of claws. Generally, I’d fill my bags two or three times before I decided that fishing was more fun.
I’m on a mission to learn to roast the perfect chicken, you know. The thing I’ve found out about roast chicken is that everyone cooks theirs differently – some people swear by brining, some people swear by cooking at low heat (I’m looking at you, Mrs. Mendelstahm), some people at high heat (Chef Waxman cooks his at a whopping 475° the whole way through!), some people insist on tenting, some on basting every five minutes. The choices are endless – and a little confusing.
So I figured, I’ll try a bunch of different ways and see what comes out. Every week when I grocery shop, I pick up a 5#-ish bird, and try something new. At the end I boil down the bones for stock, which means we get two meals from it, so I really don’t feel extravagant at all.
This week Jaquelyn came upstairs with the latest Living, which is all full of chicken recipes, and we both squeed over a roast chicken that involved paprika, and eight heads of garlic. Hello, Martha – I’mma try your recipe!
Then I screwballed it. I neglected to realize until I’d already cut all the garlic in half that Martha’s recipe* calls for two whole chickens, not one. Oops. I adjusted the spice mix accordingly and carried on baravely. But listen! Something magical happened – that chicken was delicious! Thank you, Martha! Below is what happened, as well as the potatoes I made to compliment the meat.
Eight Headed Chicken – serves 4-5
spice mix:
1Tbs paprika
1tsp oregano
1/2tsp kosher salt
5# whole chicken
Olive oil
8 heads of garlic
Low-sodium chicken broth**
Full disclosure – I’m having a hard time being careful with this post. It’s a subject about which I have a deep passion, for one thing. For another thing, I’m about up to my eyeballs lately in irritating people, and it’s starting to wear. I tried last night to broach the topic gently and failed, so logged off before I went from sassy to rude, and I may or may not owe an apology to someone for that sassiness – I feel like a bit of a jerk, in all honesty; I was less compassionate than I was statement-making, and it’s bugging me. So I’m going to see if I can work this out here in writing.
***
Dear Rogue who chatted: “People are retarded,” last night;
Yes, Virginia, it’s true. Some people do have mental retardation (MR).* Lots of people. Unlikely, tho’, is the possibility that the hunter in your group who misdirected to you is one of those people. There’s a good chance he made a mistake. Also an outside chance that you just pissed him off.
Kill a squirrel for the guild. Homeless armadillo pups will thank you.
Protip: Be on the right bridge.
Go out of the temple, turn right, and go look for the npcs. Yes, it’s a bridge. No, it doesn’t very much look like a bridge, but it is.
Otherwise, you could be like me, on on the front steps, where it sure looks like a bridge, wondering* why your quest timer keeps resetting. Don’t be a noob like me.
This has been a public service announcement.
*For over an hour before I figured it out.
It has been quite the week! There is a crisis of bounty on my kitchen counter to mark that we have had Occasions this week: two angelfood (stuffed) cupcakes, half a pie, half a chocolate cake, and a round tin of pink cookies. Also there are two slices of ice cream cake in the freezer.
You know that the pink treats are always the best treats, don’t you? It’s true. Will test drove the theory a few months ago on some cupcakes, and found it verifiable. I’m test driving it on the cookies this morning, and I believe it may be a global truth.
So I have turned forty. The only down side to turning forty I have found is the jokers. That whole over-the-hill thing? Totally for the birds. Thankfully, there’s only been one icky card to that effect, and it was from my brother, so it’s (mostly) forgivable. He makes it his business to be mildly inappropriate whenever he can get away with it; I’ve come to expect cards from him that make me wince. And in truth, I’m not so concerned about turning over a new decade. I didn’t much freak out about thirty either.
What I am concerned about, tho’, is twelve. Our man cub turned twelve over the weekend, and that’s kind of a big deal. He’s in middle school now – seventh grade – and I suppose this is where things get hinky.
Apple Tells All 