Friday night cocktail

It hasn’t been a bad week; things are picking up a bit at work, and I’m still feeling flush with the success of last weekend’s skirt making. I wanted to keep the good going, so I’ve spent tonight doing things I enjoy: watching trash movies and having a cocktail.

The trash movie is last weekend’s Meteor (part two on Sunday!), and the cocktail is a true Old Fashioned.

(OK, maybe not true — I don’t have any bourbon. ((I used Jack Daniels, a fair compromise.)) But there’s no fruit in my recipe — fruit does not belong in an Old Fashioned.)

To make:

Mix up some simple syrup if you don’t have some already. ((Put equal parts sugar and water in a saucepan and cook over medium heat until it forms a light syrup. Cool before using. I just keep a jar of it in the fridge.))

Then, in an old fashioned glass (the short, fat, round kind), put several cubes of ice, two tablespoons of simple syrup (I used less because of the Jack Daniels), a couple dashes each Angostura bitters and Peychaud bitters ((You might have to search for the Peychaud bitters, but they’re worth it. Not just for the color — bright red — but for the flavor and aroma.)) and a couple of ounces bourbon. Scotch can work too, but I don’t really care for Scotch. Stir gently and enjoy slowly.

disaster.

I suppose there is no chance that they won’t completely screw this up.

Monday Daylight-Saving-Time-blogging

I was really excited at how bright out it was as I made my way to campus for a meeting last night. “It’s 5:30 in the evening and I could wear my sunglasses!” I thought. (OK, I admit it—I actually thought, “Hey, wow, the days are really getting noticeably longer!” right before I remembered that we’d just sprung forward our clocks.) I was pretty happy right then about Daylight Saving Time.

Of course, this morning, I remember the dark side of Daylight Saving Time—literally. I hate how dark it is at 8 am when I am getting up and moving around. It doesn’t help that it’s sort of cloudy and hazy out today, with a possibility of snow, and very little sunlight. But even were the weather more cooperative, it would still be dark in the morning when my alarm goes off, and that, my friends, is a crappy thing. I suppose it would matter less if I kept more student-like hours—sleeping way in, staying up way late—but, in fact, I do not. I get up at a reasonable hour and I go to bed before midnight. I keep working hours—i.e., the hours of my working husband. So the evening daylight is nice, yes, because it’s light out when I’m coming home from school or (as last night) going to an evening meeting, but the lack of morning daylight really sucks. It’s hard enough for me to get up in the morning.

Happy Monday, all.

you've been warned

If anyone–and I mean ANYONE–spoils Harry Potter for me before my British copy arrives from the UK (probably Monday), I will hurt them. That includes the stupid MSM and all bloggers I regularly read.

You’ve been warned.

this is me, actually plugging something

Kids, if you aren’t watching Heroes, you should be. Think the X-Men meets Lost meets Alias. Last night, NBC did a marathon, but each episode is also available on iTunes.

Reason # 1,953 to hate your cable company

They decide to switch from a perfectly good digital cable system to a perfectly crappy one. Listen, no one wants to look at swoopy lines and bubbles when scrolling through the guide; no one wants their settings buried behind buttons they’ve never had to use before. (Buttons on the remote, I mean. In other words, there are some settings I can’t get to unless I know which button on the remote to push.)

Seriously, I HATE the new system. It’s ugly and hurts my eyes; it’s slow; and I don’t know how to use it. What was wrong with the clean blue grid we had before? Huh?

and only $54!

Joy! Ana will be pleased to know that, in addition to the new “contoured fit” offerings at Banana, LOFT now has a “curvy fit” jean–yes, a JEAN–and it fits pretty much perfectly. (I say pretty much because my body is totally not standard and nothing that comes off rack is perfect on me.) The waist cuts in in the right place, the legs fit slim through the thighs, and they don’t show off my crack when I sit down. These things are all HUGE.

I’ll note that LOFT doesn’t have the curvy fit in petites, but that’s OK, because I think LOFT thinks that all short women wear pants with a 28″ inseam. That’s fine for highwaters, but if I want to wear even the slightest hint of a heel (which most short women do), I need at least a 31″ inseam. It’s all good, though–it’s much easier to have a pair of jeans hemmed (with the edge sown back on) than to have the waist taken in. And cheaper.

So, curvy women everywhere–REJOICE! The chains are getting it! Real women have curves!

happy feet

I had a dream about shoes.

Basically, I had all these shoes that I don’t actually own–shiny green patent leather ankle boots, camel leather oxfords, something in a pretty matte red–and for some reason, my having these shoes was going to save the day. (I don’t remember the actual context of the dream.)

So how appropriate is it that the first email I saw this morning after getting up was from Banana Republic, with prominently featured shoes?

I may have to go buy some shoes.

shuddershuddershudder

I am completely twitched. One of these scuttled across my kitchen counter today when I went make the coffee. We’d seen something like this before — maybe back in July sometime — and Mr. Angst had killed it. But that one was in the living room, near an exterior wall, so we thought it probably just came in the window when the windows were all still open after we moved in.

But now they’re in the kitchen? I am generally not all that bothered by bugs (except the dreaded cockroach, but who wouldn’t get freaked out by a 2-inch long beetle that will FLY INTO YOUR FACE with no warning?), but this sucker made me shiver all over.

Thankfully, it ran from me and my coffee pot right into the sink, where I turned the hot water on full blast and washed it away. I even got the sprayer involved, so I could make sure the drain was flushed out and the bug was DEAD.

My skin is still crawlling.

choirs of angels singing fashion praises

Anastasia is totally spot on here–tears of joy are well-warranted over Banana Republic’s new curvy-woman pants.

See, for the last, oh, EVER, every time I’ve tried on Banana Republic pants, I’ve found them REALLY tight through my thighs and tushy, and about eight inches too big in the waist. This, frankly, shouldn’t be surprising, since they state clearly that their other pants fit “straight through the hip and thigh.” In fact, the only thing that differs about any of their other styles of pants is where they hit on the waist–low, just below, or at.

But now–now! Banana makes a pant that I can actually wear. Well, at least that I can actually have altered. Because the waist is still a bit too big. But I can have the waist taken in without destroying the line of the pants, without making my ass look like the Hindenberg. Yes, this is a Very Good Thing.