Chapter 3: The Boss Comes Home

Donald and James awoke to the loud, strange sound that came from the room next to the basement. They weren't allowed in there, but on one occasion, James had managed to sneak in. It was a cold room, with a large piece of furniture in the middle of it. He hadn't understood it, but he had walked around and then eventually made himself comfortable underneath it. The boss tried to get him to come out, but gave up quickly and closed the door. While James loved doing what he wanted and not listening to anyone else, it was boring being all alone in the dark, so he went to the door and meowed. The boss let him in, and he checked to see if any new food had appeared in his bowl. No luck. Still, it never hurt to check. Since that day, he had peered into that strange room, but he hadn't bothered to go back. It wasn't soft or warm or interesting, and he had better places to nap.

Sometimes, when the cats heard the sound that meant the boss was home, they would run over to that door and meow until the boss opened it. Then she would laugh and step inside carefully, since they had a talent for getting little paws and little tails underfoot. She had actually stepped on Donald's tail once, and he made a terrible sound, but he forgave her. It wasn't her fault her feet were so big and clumsy. She tried to be more careful after that. Sometimes, when they heard the sound that meant the boss was home, they would stay put and keep dozing. There was always plenty of time to greet the boss.

This particular time, Donald and James stretched, yawned, and made their way to the door. The boss came in, distracted as usual, and they took turns meowing at her and pawing at her knees. She laughed and petted their fuzzy little heads, saying "Hello! Hello! How was your day?" They were always happy to see her, though they never understood where she went. Why would anyone leave such a cozy place?  Surely she wondered the same thing.

Chapter 2: Naps Naps Naps

Sitting on postcards was serious business. After making sure that all the pieces of floor paper had been appropriately investigated, Donald curled up in his favorite sunbeam in the guest bedroom. His favorite nap spot was the master bed, but that bedroom was closed up when the boss was away. Something about James' inability to leave plastic alone, and the boss' refusal to James-proof that room. Donald put a paw on the piece of clothesline with a knot in it. It was much better than the piece without a knot, but he couldn't have articulated why. He could articulate many things, but they mostly covered general happiness, general displeasure, and "where is my breakfast?" He was a very talkative little cat.

While Donald dozed, James hopped up on the couch in the living room to look out the picture window and see if there were any squirrels or neighborhood cats out and about. There weren't, but the mailman was walking toward the door. James had seen this often enough to know what came next, but he couldn't stop himself from jumping when the mail fell through the slot. He shook himself and stretched. All this excitement was too much to take in. Time for a nap. He curled up under the coffee table and put a paw around his stuffed penguin. It didn't have a name, but aside from Donald, it was his best friend.

After about an hour of this, both cats made their way to the office. The sun was bright and strong, and it fell perfectly on the middle of the futon in that room. Donald and James curled up in a mass of black, gray and white fur and fell asleep. If there had been anyone in the house, they would have heard the soft, strange sound of cats snoring.

Chapter 1: A Doomed Business Venture

Donald and James were cats. Large, fuzzy cats, that some might call portly. They were fat little dudes, and they loved almost everything about their house. They loved looking out the windows and chirping at birds and squirrels. They loved all the furniture they got to sit on. They loved all the furniture they got to sit underneath! They loved the toys their boss got for them, and the pieces of colorful tissue wrapping paper that she put on the floor for them to sit on. They particularly liked putting their toys on and under this paper, because it made a wonderful noise. Christmas was a very exciting time of year, because there was even more loud paper than usual! They did not love when their boss would listen to Britney Spears or Kylie Minogue. They'd look at each other, stare icily at their boss, then walk over to the basement stairs to play until the music stopped. Interestingly, they didn't seem to mind Cher. They had eclectic tastes.

For a brief, shining moment, they had had their very own business cards. They said "Donald and James: Handsome, Sassy Housecats. For All Your Door Opening Needs." If they had been consulted, they probably would have not included "sassy" as a descriptor. Their door-opening business didn't really go anywhere, mostly because they're weren't honestly all that good at opening doors after all. If a door had been improperly closed, perhaps they could eventually open it, if they really wanted to. Additionally, the business cards did not include contact information, because neither Donald nor James had an email account or a cellphone. They did have a mailing address, but were illiterate. Despite this, they enjoyed postcards.

They enjoyed sitting on postcards.

Note to self: write a cat novel

"The boss had left for the day. now it was time to see what she'd done to the house during the night. All the blankets were carefully made. 'This won't do,' thought James. He pounced and bunnykicked! He brought his stuffed penguin over to keep an eye on Donald. Donald was a terrible whiner."
--excerpt from "Death Waddled Like a Penguin" by T.L. Ragnarok

Another year, come and gone, but Mr. Biscuit remains the best cat.

Neither of these cats are Mr. Biscuit. One of these cats got in trouble for getting on a table.

Happy almost New Year, readers! (all 2 of you who still somehow keep up with this despite the fact that I never, ever, ever post!)

I will end 2013 with a link to the best thing I read all year:
Mr. Biscuit.

Chicken Soup for Halloween

I can't remember if I've done a chicken soup post, so I'm just going to do (another?) one since I've got soup in its final stages in the crockpot right now.

We're into the cold and rainy part of fall, and it's a good time to make soup. I just got a flu shot, so it's an even *better* time to make soup. This stuff's easy, and you have to put salt in it or it won't taste like chicken soup as you understand chicken soup to exist. I don't like putting salt in it, so I leave that out when I'm making it initially and then I go "why isn't this salty and delicious in the way I expect chicken soup to be?" Every time. I recently read a straightforward egg noodle recipe, so I may try that next time. For now, though, chicken soup.

Ingredients:
Some vegetables (whatever you want! maybe dice them! carrots are good in this situation.)
A potato, if you like potatoes in soup. I had a potato, so I put it in there. I diced it first.
Onion (diced. technically, it will be way more delicious if you saute the onion first before putting it into the crockpot, but this is very EASY chicken soup. Easy does not always mean "maximum delicious." This is the burden we lazy people must bear.)
Garlic (you could dice it, I don't care. I remove the garlic skin and just put the whole cloves in because I'm lazy.)
Some chicken (I got leg quarters from ALDI for $0.85/pound. I used one piece, because it's a small crockpot, and I don't like a lot of chicken, actually! Just put this in however you get it - fresh or frozen, whatever. You want skin and bones going into this for a heartier, fattier soup. Remove the skin if you want it to be less delicious. Leave the bones. Bones go in soup!)
An assortment of herbs. I usually put in some parsley, celery seeds (I don't know, they're in my pantry. I don't even know where they came from), rosemary, black pepper, poultry seasoning (see my note on celery seeds), lemon rind (again, no idea) and anything else that I notice that I think might be nice. I don't like sage. I'm just not a fan. If you like sage, I'm happy for you. Please explain it to me, because it's so, so gross.

Directions:
Put everything in the crock pot and cover with water. Cook on high for a couple hours, then switch to low. It's ready when the meat is falling off the bones. I like to pull the meat out at this point, remove the bones and skin, cut up the meat and put that back into the soup.

Have some soup. Go "why isn't this at all salty?"

Why I Enjoy Baking/Unfocused ramblings about baking

Short answer: Because it's fairly straightforward and it makes the house smell nice.

Longer answer: Because my mom gave me her old Sunbeam Mixmaster (is that right? I'm too lazy to walk to the kitchen to check) with the note that "you have to watch it. you can't just leave it alone." This surprised me, because that is my assumption about mixers! I was not aware that there were any mixers that could be left unsupervised during operation! What a world we live in! What a marvelous future! Having a stand mixer on the counter made me think more frequently about baking things, like chocolate chip cookies. Then I started baking chocolate chip cookies. A lot.

I guess that short answer #2 is "stand mixer."

I make excellent chocolate chip cookies now, I barely have to look at the recipe. By the way, Maida Heatter is a wonderful cookbook author, at least for desserts. I've read about a third of her cake book, and I don't even have any interest in baking cakes. I just enjoy reading her cake-related writing. For a while, I was making a couple batches of cookies each month, which was excessive, but it was a pleasant and delicious hobby, and cookies make thoughtful-seeming presents. They aren't actually thoughtful when you're compulsively baking for reasons you don't fully understand and you don't want to eat four dozen cookies every week, but they seem that way!

 Now I've been made aware of quickbreads (two words? quick breads?), starting with this recipe.

Pretty delicious, actually.

It's ridiculously seasonal, thanks to the fact that it is pumpkin bread, but that's kind of nice. I like that element of baking. I'm not much for decorating the house, though I do have a tiny fake Christmas tree and some decorative candles that I put up after Thanksgiving, but I like the idea of a tradition of baked goods for various times of year. There's something appealing about ritual, and baking seems fairly benign. You take simple ingredients, you make something delicious.

People are surprisingly impressed by baked goods. I don't know why this is, though it's probably one of those "you have the luxury to take the time to bake things sometimes. Good for you" sorts of situations. When I started typing this I was thinking "maybe people think baking is hard and they are impressed because they don't think they can do it," but now I suspect it's more "Oh of course, you childless single person with copious amounts of time spent alone, of course you bake."

So that's a rundown on my thoughts about baking. Because it's a pleasant way to pass the time, it's not very expensive, it makes the house smell nice, it makes me feel like my kitchen appliances are justifying the counter space they use, and when it's all over, I get to eat something I made. Or at least look appreciatively at something I made, and then wrap it up to give to someone else as a "thoughtful" present.