Gothic Granola

The title of this post is not intentionally misleading.  The pie itself is time-consuming, as is all pie, but I managed to have time to bake it and read forty or so pages of American literature for class tomorrow.  Now I’m writing this and listening to the strange turn my Rammstein channel on Pandora has taken, featuring classical arrangements of alternative songs.  I may eat this pie for breakfast since I have yet to make lunch and breakfast for tomorrow.

Have a piece of my heart.  Or tear my heart to pieces, can do that, too.

I understand, it is expected that I should post something about Thanksgiving food, since the American holiday is next week.  But I’m not going to.  Maybe next week.   Defying expectations, that’s what we’re good at.

If I had a Polish grandmother, she would be rolling over in her grave right now, or wondering why I would mess with someone’s time-honoured recipe.  I was bored?  Not at all; I have too much schoolwork, applications, and reading material to be bored. 

I have a few lists and piles: there’s a pile of scrap paper with topics and scribbles about poems that I want to write, subjects upon which I want to discourse, discuss, disgust, disguise.  To the cover of my notebook, I binder-clipped a list of places I’d like to visit, activities I’d like to do, and objects I’d like to own.  I also carry a list of food projects I’d like to attempt.  By attempt, I mean throw caution to the wall, throttle it until it turns blue, and release it in disgust that I ever had any truck with it, and just do whatever I was about to do. Squirrel in my parents' backyard from 2011

Chococat says, "All this pumpkin cheezecake for me?!"

Hello from Alexandria!   I have been having a wonder-filled fall break back in the D.C. metro area.  After making excellent time from NJ (3.5 hours!) last Thursday, I made a pumpkin pie as soon as I arrived at my aunt and uncle’s house.