"I Just Need Two Hours to Get Started" She Opined Foolishly

I don’t have time to fuck around. Literally. I don’t have time to fuck around.

 I’ve had this idea in my head for awhile. Of course it’s not exactly as I envisioned; it never is. But it’s something. And I haven’t made anything in months. I’m so happy I could explode.

Work (of genius!) in progress

It’s raining hard here. We are in the path of the hurricane.

Anyway, I have to stop painting hair to make dinner. I’m thinking some kind of crispy-skinned chicken with a balsamic reduction and blue cheese on top. Who knows?

UPDATE: So anyway, it was Blue Cheese night. I made some crispy-skinned chicken thighs I glazed with a sauce I made from caramelized onions… and garlic… sauteed in bacon fat, along with reduced red wine, sugar, rosemary and vinegar. I topped the thighs with crumbled blue cheese. I roasted carrots alongside. They got all burnished and tender and sweet in the chicken fat and glaze.

I also made a wedge lettuce salad with homemade blue cheese dressing. I am just, well, THE BEST.

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15 thoughts on “"I Just Need Two Hours to Get Started" She Opined Foolishly

  1. Last w/v was "daywing". Now it is "chilled". Someone is trying to do my head in.In other news, via Feuilleton,Beginning in September and on every third Thursday of the month thereafter through 2013 [the Freer museum]'re going to open the shutters and expose the [Peacock] room to natural lighting. Apparently the’ve treated the windows with a special filtering film that will not inhibit the light but will prevent fading.YOU MUST SEE.

  2. I have MORE than enough time. I don't have enough to do. I fuck around constantly. Sometimes I can't find anything to fuck around with, or more commonly the shit I can find to fuck around with require an investment of time and concentration I'm not willing to offer.So at least you know that the universe's basic complement of fucking around is staying constant – as you fuck around less, others are fucking around more. So balance is retained…

  3. Smut…first of all…omfg. That peacock room is breathtaking. That is the only proper word for it. It's almost word-stealing, because I'm having trouble thinking of things to say about it. WOWZA. That's a good word, right?And that song is hilarious. It's almost like "WE ARE ROCKING SO HARD!!! ACKNOWLEDGE THIS!!! THERE ARE ARMADILLOS IN OUR TROUSERS!!!ELEVENTY!!!"

  4. I had to work an event this afternoon, and the caterer (good guy, I've worked with his staff a lot) fed myself and my co-worker. Braised beef brisket, fried chicken, grilled salmon, mesclun salad, haricots verts with carrots, assorted hoover-doovers (the mini mushroom tarts were great). It's a damn good thing, because I am stuck at work with some chick named Irene, so I'll be eating like a camper for the foreseeable future. Of course, I'm the sort of guy who takes salciccia abbruzzese along when he goes camping.

  5. salciccia abbruzzeseI had to Google that, but the pictures tell me everything I need t know. *drool*Although not right now, 'cos my nieces, despite being French, cordially detest blue cheese. Go figure.WHAT?!!! That is kooky talk!

  6. you should cook for Dusty's husband, so she has more time for blogging, or "doing that weird thing to the blogs with hundreds of comments".I would love to cook for Dusty and her husband, but if I did so, I might receive praise and attention, you know much I hate that.

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