I missed you.

I'm BACK!! I actually landed in London-town on Sunday afternoon, but the lovely Heather was still here, so of COURSE I was slightly distracted--and infinitely busy pretending not to shop--to get fully online. But she left this morning back to San Francisco, so here I am! And so thrilled. It feels like it's been AGES since I've slouched at this computer drinking eighteen cups of coffee and posting too many photos on my blog and basically being a complete slacker all day long.

Speaking of posting photos to my blog! I had intended to upload some Cornwall pics today, but then I saw that I took over a thousand. Seriously. What was I thinking? Did I REALLY need to shoot the same beach seventy times, each with a slightly different expanse of sand and cliff? Why, when I'm shooting, can I not remember how impossible it is to sit at the computer later and pick out one photo from three dozen nearly-identical versions? These will take some time to go through. In fact, you'll probably see them...never. Kinda like how you saw my Spain photos two years after the fact, and then only about five of them.

Nonetheless...I'm so glad to be back!

Computer fasting

Today, other than this blog post and some emails to which I've already responded, I'm staying off the computer. Because here I am, with entire days stretching at my fingertips, and I'm spending them all here. Which is pretty lame, because there's so much to do in this city, every day and every minute. And spending hours on this computer makes my world view very small. It's one thing if you're on your computer all day for work; it's another thing entirely when you're on it all day for fun.

So if you email me and don't hear back, it's because I'm on vacation. Over here, on the couch, with my book and my tea and a guidebook of London, which I may apply toward an activity...or I may not. After all, that's the beauty of leisure time. You can do as much or as little as you like...

* brewing kettle * * settling in *

Almost a post of Camden Passage photos.

Okay, this is probably the funniest thing I've seen all week. Though it is only Tuesday. I seriously cannot get enough of this cantankerous old man. Make sure you scroll to the bottom and click 'more,' because you do NOT want to miss his opinion of kale...

I'm currently trying to figure out how to post last week's pictures from Camden Market. Not from a technical standpoint, but from a mental standpoint. For some reason, I have a hard time posting photos too much longer after their taken-point. It's like they've lost their relevance or something. And since I was so busy last Saturday posting about Christopher Lambert to even touch them--and then of course I spent Sunday and Monday enjoying the bank holiday--these pictures now seem MONTHS old. And I feel like once I allow myself to post photos willy-nilly, then all order will be lost and the second law of thermodynamics becomes blog-applicable and OMIGOSH EVERYBODY PANIC! IT'S BLOG ANARCHY!!

I need to go clean my room. I can't handle this.

Frying will occur here today.

Okay, so the other day I woke up with a mad craving for doughnuts. And not, like, Krispy Kreme or Daylight Donuts, but homeMADE doughnuts. So of course I started looking online for recipes and found this great looking Paula Deen recipe for sweet potato doughnuts with maple icing. (Am I alone when I say I LOVE her?) So I checked my cupboard and it's all systems go, except for one minor ingredient: the maple extract. I hoofed it to the shops to find it, and hit a wall at every turn. They've got vanilla, almond, rum, strawberry, rose water, orange blossom, linoleum, cardboard, etc., but NO MAPLE. Of course.

This happens every time I try to use an American recipe: I always come up one ingredient short. The other day I was craving fudge (the way they make it back home, not the toffees they sell here under the name), but you can't get semi-sweet chocolate chips. Dark, milk, and white, sure, but semi-sweet? Uh huh. Barkin' up the wrong crazy tree, lady. So there went that. Then there was the afternoon I was craving panir-stuffed jalapenos wrapped in bacon. I was willing to substitute cream cheese for panir, no problem. As for the bacon, well...there is no other place that can outdo this country for its bacon selection. But then...no jalapenos. ANYWHERE.* So again I was forced to abandon ship. But this time? This time is different. This need, this command by a higher power, for me to make sweet potato doughnuts will not be so casually tossed aside.

So I'm going to make them anyway! After all, it's only the ICING that will suffer, right? How integral can it be to the entire recipe?** In fact, I think not having any icing will make my doughnuts HEALTHY. Because there's nothing better for you than deep-fried sweet potato.

And if this whole thing doesn't work? I've got a PERFECT backup plan.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got weight to gain.


*I've since found some on the bottom shelf of a dusty Tesco aisle packed three into a bag, right next to the golden syrup. Awkward and suspicious, but I'll TAKE it.
**Famous last words.

What's in a name?

Her email is the sort of address that one is assigned: jenn435@maildotcom. You never pick this address. And yet, I never thought you settle for it, either, when the domain suggests it as a viable alternative to your first choice, 'jennlastname.' Even 'jennbirthday'--while impossible for anybody else to remember--makes sense.

Alas, when jenn435 sends an email, I don't need to open it to know what it's going to say: 'You're an amazing woman,' it reads. 'Now send this to nine other amazing women, including me, for good luck.' In Monotype Corsiva, size 18, hot pink. Lime green blinking graphics remind me that kittens are cute and purple angels wish me blessings. I think about forwarding this on to my grandmother and aunt before realizing that they sent me the same thing last week and consequently already have wealth unforetold.

So what do you do with these mass emails from friends so old you no longer have any connection with them? Do you let them know that you first became friends with them when you were eight, an age at which you taped together empty toilet paper rolls to make binoculars, trampolines were all it took for street cred, and any friend big enough to pull you in your wagon was worth hours of your time? Notably when their grandmother lived across the street and rejoiced in making an endless stream of molasses cookies, which meant you could turn down your parents' offering of an after-school apple? Do you tell them that things changed when they dropped out of high school to have their first baby while you opted to get a degree, leave the state, start anew?

You hit 'reply.' You type in the e(mail)quivalent to the secret handshake you shared to get into The Club in which your sisters weren't allowed: 'Luv you! Ur amazing, too!' Hitting 'send,' you realize that while this may be your lifelong e-burden, it was worth it. Because of her, you know pig latin, and how to throw pine cones at cars from the safety of a hidden tree branch. These are the lifelong blessings she's given. What's a forward full of fairies?