Everything in it's own place

I bought it because it was cheaper than gin, but I have learned. Learned. It's unfortunate because I really do love whiskey. I'm not a celiac. My tolerance for grains like barley and rye fluctuates (and at this point, I really do only have rye exclusively in the form of whiskey). So in theory, I can have whiskey. Perhaps it's because all of my allergies are on high alert this week, but I woke up this morning with an allergen "hangover." I felt a tad ripped off. I thought I might get a goodly, normal hangover. But the stuffy nose. I should have gone for gin. But, if I had spent the night knocking back martinis, I would never have accomplished this much.


My craft corner is developing into something slightly less embarrassing. I'm hoping that at this angle, it is not possible to see what a mess the fabric still is and how those shelves are really too small. I already have plans for bins for the fabric in the work. If I'm smart, I'll make them myself. Out of yarn. Which I have so much of that it doesn't even fit into the craft corner unless it is already shoved into WIP bags which are currently stuffed beneath the table.

More importantly, though, I think I may have finally found a good place for this:



It's the only typewriter I have ever loved (although the mild fling with my parents' electric typewriter in the 80's when I would "play writer" was kind of fun, it still does not mean that I know how to use a typewriter no matter what my employers wish to believe).

And yes. I did have this rum raisin cupcake for dinner. And one of its siblings, too. Like always, another brilliant cupcake from VCTOW. The evening I made this I paced around muttering "Mace. Mace." I ate one of the cupcakes and thought it quite nice. Not that it needed anything, but I still had the sense something was missing. The next day I began to wonder why I was still thinking of mace. Is it something I forgot to put into the cupcake? I opened up the book, which I am trying to get sloppy enough to look well used, but not so sloppy as to destroy it. (Do not tell me I can buy another. My parents bought it for me and my father dedicated the book "To our vegan cupcake" which still tears me up even as I write it, because although my parents have always been fairly supportive, it has always been my father who asks the most questions.) And, of course, I had forgotten mace. Mace. If I only I had noticed this earlier, I could have added it to the glaze. Or the buttercream. I have chosen to sprinkle it on top and it really does complete the cupcake. I have learned that I must listen to myself. If I am still muttering a recipe ingredient, that means I probably haven't added it yet.



To make up for dinner, I planned a lushly, green lunch. Sweet-and-sour rice noodles with oodles of spinach. I should take it with me to the park during my lunch hour, but I probably won't. I forsee some furious knitting in my future.