(no subject)

Well, today was a good day. Tonight's dinner gathering was pleasant. Delightful conversation and good people. Can't beat that.

The menu was quite successful. The dessert, magnificent. The flavors were fantastic. I have left over homemade cinnamon ice cream, if anyone wants it. :-) Like most other homemade foods, homemade ice cream is fantastic.

Above all, it felt good to cook for them. I like sharing new recipes and culinary experiences with people.

For the most part, each individual dish is fairly easy to prepare.

The guests had to leave early, they have an early day tomorrow. So the rest of the night was spent goofing off and relaxing. Sascha was feeling amorous tonight, the little cuddle-monster.

Bed beckons.

(no subject)

I've noticed of late that the frequency of erotic dreams has increased. Hmmm, righteous.

Suddenly I feel like Beetlejuice when he's on the model train table, covered with little spikes, swaggering over to the miniature whorehouse.

Irradiation

Here is an interesting article on irradiation.

I find it interesting that the reporter writes at length on the benefits of irradiation, and merely bullet-itemizes the reasons against irradiation given by opponents to it.

I suppose, if I'm going to risk e. coli and other bacteria, I won't mind irradiated steak. Furthermore, I'm not going to become a vegetarian any time soon.

One of the arguments of the opponents that was expounded upon was that irradiation would mask poor food production practices. Specifically, fecal matter getting in the meat. My question is, if any bacteria is killed, and it doesn't affect the taste, what do I care, really?

This doesn't mean I'm going to run out and buy up a big heaping helping of irradiated feces. Absolutely not. Not unless they deep fry it. Everything tastes delicious deep fried.

Why Cats Is So Stoopid

I have just finished cleaning all of my bedding. Normally, I wash the sheets once a week, but delay on the duvee cover, since it's such a pain to get that comforter into it every time. But Sascha forced my hand today.

Apparently, his paws weren't quite so clean when he left the litter box after voiding his little feline bowels. But there was this little sand sized pebble of kitty refuse on my comforter this morning. I wouldn't have known it was there except for the fact that Sascha was trying to bury it using other parts of the comforter.

Of course, the rest of the world doesn't work like a litter box, but Sascha didn't seem to care. He kept on trying to bury the stinky spot by running his paws over different parts of the bedspread. He had no concept of validating that his efforts were valuable.

Of course, maybe the "burying" body language is also a way to command the owner to now change the bedspread, for it is soiled. In that case, he was quite ingenious.