In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday is a Harry Potter Geek Once and Always.

This week I am obsessed with the trailer for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2:



I don't want to be.  I am generally scornful of the Potter films for the simple reason that they always fail to live up to my expectations.  No, I am not one of those people who thinks that every detail needs to be translated perfectly from page to screen (OK, maybe I am).  But generally I find that it's the big details they get wrong that annoy me.

For example, even in the above badass trailer, the number of conversations that He Who Must Not Be Named and Harry have, and the number of locations they have them in, is just strikingly wrong to me.

That said, I am a total sucker for the "It All Ends" tagline they've had running around for months.  And I can't get rid of these pesky goosebumps the trailer gives me, no matter how many times I have to roll my eyes at the inaccuracies.

There's also this piece of awesomeness from Damon Lindelof (that's Mr. Lost to you) about why Voldemort (There! I said it!!!) is The Baddest Villain of Them All.

So maybe I'll just have to get my head out of my ass and go.

In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday...

OK.  This is what we're going to do.

For the rest of the summer, I am going to post as much as I can, and if (read: when) I am late, I'm not going to apologize.  It's going to keep happening, and the constant contrition is going to get old for all of us.  So let's just go with it.

And now, obsessive links!

From the *HeadDesk* department of WTF-ery, comes SB Sarah's remarkable response to a remarkably horrific article about the effect of romance articles on female perceptions and sexuality.  Let's just say that you learn research techniques in middle school that are better than those used to write this annoying piece of drivel (To clarify: the article is drivel.  SB Sarah's response is badass).

From the *This Might Have to Be My New Cult Favorite* department of Awesomesauce comes this critique and clip of the upcoming show Once Upon a Time.  Does the premise sound awkward and ill-thought-out?   Perhaps.  But then there's the fact that it comes from the writers of Lost.  There's also the fact that the clip is... awesome.  Go to there.

Also, those just catching up to the UK phone hacking scandal should check out this article from the June issue of Vanity Fair.  We could be witnessing their Watergate.

And finally, from the *Start Lining Up Already* department of GAH! comes the news that the Arrested Development feature film is alive and well.  And anything George Bluth says must be... exaggerated for the manipulation of his stockholders.  Nonetheless.  This time next year, people!!

Have a lovely weekend.

In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday is Inspired.

This is a couple of weeks old, but the sentiments and the general inspirationality of it all are still resonating with me.  Team CoCo fo' sho'.

In Which Monday Menu Mayhem is Hot

Greetings mayhem-ers, from sunny, hot as hell Phoenix. Yep, that's right, we're on the road this week, and I've already begun to regret my books-for-forced-reading choices. Don't worry, I'm sure I'll get over it.

In the meantime, we cooked! Somehow, in the midst of a truly insane Father's Day weekend (Yay Dad and Granddads Jones!), I made Chilled Cucumber Soup for dinner.

And boy, would Boy Scout appreciate it if I never made such a thing, like, ever again.

It's not that it was bad, it was just not really anywhere in the vicinity of good. Something about cucumbers and a whole mess of onions (red, scallions) seemed like just the right thing, but then turned out not to be.

Full disclosure: I used fat free dairy products in the making of this soup (Greek yogurt and half & half), and left out the dill, mostly because I couldn't find any anywhere. Granted, I didn't try too hard because it's not my favorite thing in the world, but nonetheless, if I had found some, I would have used it.

Anyway, you're supposed to stick 2 cucumbers, a red onion, 6 scallions, the yogurt and the half & half in the blender. Which I did. Then I added the lemon juice as required before serving. I did not garnish with shrimp because I did not feel it was necessary. It was just the two of us, after all, but I suspect this is half of Boy Scout's problem. If only because he told to me outright that that was part of his problem.

I really did take a picture if the soup, but right now it requires more effort than I have to expend to figure out how to get that picture from the gallery in my phone to this blog entry right here. It is a shockingly difficult task.

Voila. Monday? Check. Menu? Check. Mayhem? Check. Stay cool out there.

In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday Revisits Some Old Promises

Remember a long-ass time ago when I told you I would come back to the "other things" I liked about Elizabeth Hoyt's Legend of the Four Soldiers Series?

Well, gather 'round, children.  It's time.

The first book in the Four Soldiers series begins with a prologue that, well... begins the story of the Four Soldiers.  You with me?  Emeline, the heroine of To Taste Temptation, was read The Legend of the Four Soldiers by her nanny when she was younger.  The nanny was Prussian and the book that she read from was in Prussian (?), and Emeline wants the book translated.  Melisande, the heroine of the To Seduce a Sinner, can translate the thing.  Helen of To Beguile a Beast has lovely penmanship and transcribes the thing.  Oh, and it just so happens that Beatrice of To Desire a Devil knows how to bind books.  Just sayin'.

So each of our Four Soldiers' tales is accompanied by a "fictional" Four Soldiers tale.  Before each chapter is a little piece of the fairy-tale story, and each epilogue wraps everything together, finishing the sub-story and illuminating the grander theme within our novel.

Iron Heart, Laughing Jack, Truth Teller, and Longsword each fight their own mythic battles for the princesses they love (Solace, Surcrease, Sympathy, and Serenity, respectively).  Obviously the tales feature parallel obstacles to those faced by our Soldiers, and the princesses represent what our heroines give them.

While the whole "each heroine has a part to play" thing is a little much, I do like this common thread for the women throughout all of the stories.  The men have their war, and the women have these tales, and to be honest, they don't really have much interaction with one another from one book to the next.  It is their only real connection.  At the end of To Desire a Devil, the unveiling of the books that Beatrice has bound is quite interesting, because it really gives the reader a sense of how much these women have bonded, if unknowingly.

The other thing I want to mention is the time period in which these books take place.  In my mind (and quite generally speaking) there are three time periods of historical romance novels- Medieval, Regency and Victorian/American West.  The Legend of the Four Soldiers takes place about six years after the end of the French and Indian War, which places it squarely in the Colonial period.  I had to keep reminding myself to picture corsets and powdered wigs rather than empire waists and Hessian boots.  Very strange.  But very cool.  It was refreshing to read something different.  And for that reason alone this is a series worth checking out.

In Which There is Hiatus

It's big-time season-finales week, which means one thing for a lot of people who make television shows: hiatus.

The next two weeks are insane for me.  Like, two-weddings-on-two-continents-within-six-days insane.  I plan to do a lot of reading.  But I do not plan on having the mental capacity to write about it coherently.

Also, I just started a new diet (ugh, I can't believe I just wrote that) and I need some time to get going before I completely re-vamp Menu Mayhem.

THUSLY, I hiat.  Or something like that.  When I come back there will be the new Monday Menu Mayhem I spoke of, at least three new book reviews (Providing I don't get hugely distracted by the Virgin Atlantic onboard entertainment... Hello, all of the movies I've been dying to see...), and I will be coherent once more.  Maybe.

Have a glorious two weeks, friends, and enjoy the May/June transition.

In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday Has a Lot of Diffent Things to Talk About

I'm writing from my new iPad 2.

And oh man, it's awesome.

OK, full disclosure, it's an iPad that belongs to the day job that I have to have (a girl's got to eat, and blogging for the masses doesn't pay in anything but a healthy sense of self-righteousness), but somehow I don't think anyone will mind if I reappropriate this lovely piece of machinery for a few minutes.

Oh yes. This lovely piece of machinery is most definitely my obsession de la semaine.

It's thin. It's white. And it has a badass pink cover. Part of this color combination is because I accessorize only in pink. And part of it is so that my male colleagues don't steal her. Yes, it's a "her," and she needs a name. Suggestions welcome in the comments.

The problem is, though, that I got the wifi only version (like you do... AT&T has enough of my soul, thank you very much) and then I went away on a business trip (hello from sunny and hot as hell Florida!). I have no idea how to judge this next part-- I can't decide if my outrage is justified. You'll let me know, right? Here goes...

The hotel does not have wireless available in the rooms. There's an Ethernet chord, or you can purchase internet through the television. All other Internet transactions must be carried out on the questionable wireless network in the lobby. (Why yes, I did pay $25 for 2 days' worth of access, and no, I still couldn't connect. Awesome.)

Let's ignore the fact that this hotel is currently hosting three business conventions.

And let's ignore the fact that when you (read: your company) are paying $150 a night for a hotel, you shouldn't have to kick in another $12 per day to connect to the Internet in general.

HOW DO THEY NOT HAVE WIRELESS INTERNET THROUGHOUT THE BUILDING?

Sure, iPads are new, and laptops can all be plugged in. But half of the point of a laptop is that it's portable. And for business purposes in this setting, how can you possibly be expected to go back to your room to check your email, or to look something up for a potential client?

Maybe it's a Gen Y thing. Maybe it's an overly techie thing. But I would seriously think twice before checking in to this hotel for business again-- a hotel, I might add, that is otherwise very lovely and has nothing particularly "wrong" with it.

But it's the year 2011. Connection is everything. And they have failed.

(For the record, the wireless connection I am using right now was brought in by the convention I'm attending... The hotel does not even provide wireless in its own convention halls)

In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday is Too ADD to Decide.

I don't even want to talk about it.

Friends, blog-ees, countrymen, I have nothing new to report this week by way of awesome new discoveries in awesomeness.

Really the biggest things I have been obsessed with are The Good Wife (I mean... seriously. WHY ARE YOU ALL NOT WATCHING IT ALL THE TIME??  Or, at the very least, WHY ARE YOU ALL NOT WATCHING IT WHEN YOU ARE NOT WATCHING COUGAR TOWN??) and old school (not to be confused with Old Skool) Lisa Kleypas historicals.

Both are the entertainment equivalent of comfort food.

Except that The Good Wife isn't so much comforting as it is ohholyhellamazing.  Have I mentioned how much I love Julianna Marguiles?  Not in the past week?  WELL.  She is beautiful.  And damn can that woman act.  I mean, for reals.  Without going all spoiler-alerty, let me just say that the last 20 or so seconds of this week's episode were Off the Charts Acting 101.  Her character, Alicia, finds out a BIG secret, and suddenly, as she's walking down a deserted hotel hallway, we see the woman who's held it together for two seasons just... crumble.  Before our very eyes.  It was heartbreaking for unobvious reasons (again with the spoiler-alertiness), and I cannot believe we now have to wait until May for the metaphorical shit to hit the metaphorical fan.

As for the Kleypases, there is something very very soothing about the interactions of her heroes and heroines.  I mean, even when they're behaving like idiots (Hi Derek Craven.  You know how much I love you... Just shut up and marry her, already), there is no doubt about how much they love each other and how much they want to be together.  Sure there are obstacles, but they almost don't matter when faced with the blinding chemistry of an atypical regency Miss and her dashingly unconventional Knight in Shining Armor.

And that's all she wrote.  No seriously.

In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday Loves Gwyneth.

Confession time:  Gwyneth Paltrow is among my life-gurus.

I know it's dumb, and more than a little lame, but I simply can't help myself.  I've been a GOOP subscriber pretty much since its inception (it started as a sheer-curiosity, "WTF is she going to write about every week?" thing) and the more I read, the more I love her.

I re-emphasize that I know this is lame.

Here's what I like: she's a foodie.  And she readily admits she's imperfect.  And her life-motto, the one quoted in her new book (the main object of my obsession) speaks to me on a number of levels:

Invest in what's real.  Clean as you go.  Drink while you cook.  Make it fun.  It doesn't have to be complicated.  It will be what it will be.

This is the kind of chill philosophy with which I can get down.

Gwyneth imparts life-tips every week, and this is something you have to take with a HUGE grain of salt.  Like really, a huge one.  A couple of weeks ago she wrote a column about being a working mom and how crazy life can be.  People immediately jumped on the fact that she is a millionaire, and that part of her life-busy-ness is that she takes an hour and a half to work out every day.  You know what, though?  I don't really have energy to take issue with that.  She wasn't saying "everyone should be like me all the time," she was sharing tips for life organization, and using her own life to provide examples.

But whatever.

In any event, Gwynnie was on the cover of Vogue last year (August?) and it mentioned that she was coming out with a cookbook.  I pretty much freaked out and pre-ordered it right then and there.  When My Father's Daughter: Delicious, Easy Recipes Celebrating Family & Togetherness came to my door this week, I sat down and read it cover to cover, stopping only to be polite enough to speak to my family during dinner.

(Those familiar with Gwyneth's food-and-family philosophy will find this painfully ironic)

I'm learning that there is such a thing as duck bacon (ohholyhell, and where can I get some?!), and about things like agave and spelt flour.  I'm not sure I'm going to have a complete diet renaissance, but the presentation of these hippy-ish things is such that I'm intrigued.  And that's really cool.

So yeah, run to the library or to the book store, and check this book out.  And if you feel like it, subscribe to GOOP.  It's not always awesome (this week's fashion issue was not something that spoke to me at all), but usually there is a little slice of inspiration that gives a new perspective.

And that's OK with me.

In Which Monday Menu Mayhem Loses It (Again).

It is with great pleasure (really, I can't even quantify how much pleasure) that I announce that there is no new Nigella recipe this week.

(Wait for the pleasurable part...)

And it is all Boy Scout's fault.

Wow that feels nice.  For those who don't know, I am to blame for all of Boy Scout's life miseries.  He can't find his pen?  It's clearly my fault (even when I'm in another state).  He can't remember where he parked his car?  It's totally my fault (even when I'm in another state).  The good thing about this is that I am also responsible for the positive stuff, too.  He's deliriously happy?  MY FAULT.  (Right Boy Scout?  You're deliriously happy AND IT'S MY FAULT, RIGHT?!)

But I digress (insert Dramatic Music App faux gasps here).

So it's his fault, but it's one of the "good-thing-faults."  This weekend was the second anniversary of his twenty ninth birthday.  (Like how I did that, honey?)

ANYWAY.  All of the cooking this weekend centered around Favorite Scout Camp Foods, including clam chowder and peanut butter pie.  None of which originate from our bible.

This clam chowder is awesome though, and I say that as a person who is not normally enamored of clam chowder.  Now brace yourself, because it starts with bacon.  Shocking.  Right.  Then you add all the normal stuff, and not too much cream, which is one of my biggest clam chowder complaints-in-life.  Sometimes it's all just a bit much.

Speaking of "a bit much," that exactly describes the peanut butter pie, for which I do not have a handily available recipe.  It used to be called Ann's Peanut Butter Pie (thanks to Auntie Jones), but at this point I think I've made it more than she ever has.  Let's just say there's a stick of butter, a block of cream cheese, and a pint of whipping cream involved.

Yeah.  You're really better off not knowing that when you're eating it.  But it's 100% worth it.

In other news, I might actually finish a book this week!  Start planning the celebrations now.

In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday Loves the Muppets

Happy St. Patrick's Day everyone!  In honor of the day (and because everything is better with The Muppets), we have a video!



And let me just say, it's all about Animal.
Enjoy!

In Which Monday's Menu Lacks Mayhem

Well friends, I did a shockingly little amount of cooking this weekend.

To be more precise, I cooked nothing.

That's not true, actually, on Saturday I made Bacon Dip, which, while not part of the Nigella pantheon of recipes, is still a family staple due to the bacony-cream-cheeseness of it all.  It's glorious.  And I've been known to eat it for dinner a time or six.

The problem with this weekend was that it was my birthday, and no one would let me cook.  As a matter of fact, it's only through an unfortunate family illness that I was allowed to make the dip-- we ended up being an appetizer short for The Big Dinner.

In any event, I have nothing to report except that I am the luckiest girl in the world, and I have the best family and friends anyone could ask for.  And also, there is no greater ice cream in the world than The Schmoo's homemade Oreo Cookie Ice Cream.  I ain't lyin'.

In Which Monday Menu Mayhem Messes With a Classic

Honestly, I don't know why I made this recipe.  I mean, there's nothing wrong with Nigella's Chocolate Chip Cookies, and you've got to give her credit for trying to get us to change our minds and our palates.  But let's be perfectly clear: nothing ever can/will/should surpass the Tollhouse Chocolate Chip Cookie in terms of excellence and infinite makeability.

That said, there is nothing wrong with the Nigella recipe.  It varies from the traditional in that we melt the butter, use superfine sugar (I wouldn't have bothered if I didn't have some in the kitchen anyway), and use an egg and an egg yolk instead of two whole eggs.  Also, the recipe called for milk chocolate chips, but I was NOT going to give up my semi-sweets.  The result was good, but not memorable.  Something akin to what you would buy at a cafe for $2 apiece.  I have nothing against them and would totally make them again... if only I didn't have a better recipe at my disposal.

Speaking of things that never need to happen again, I just do need to take a moment to discuss the oh-holy-hell-in-a-handbasket disaster that was last night's Oscars.  I love Anne Hathaway, but no amount of uber-sunny energy was going to save that snoozefest trainwreck.  There was nothing fun about the ceremony (save for a handful of memorable acceptance speeches), there was nothing funny about the hosts (can we spell A-W-K-W-A-R-D?), and, more importantly, there was nothing even remotely interesting in the winners.  Everyone who was supposed to win, did.  Not that that's a bad thing (I'm looking at you, Colin Firth... could you please stop looking at your gorgeous Italian wife and look over here?  No?), but a lack of Shakespeare in Love/Crash-style upset made it all an exercise in "Did I really even need to bother watching this?" dullitude.  Hell, even if The Social Network had won, I'm not sure that would have made things more interesting.

I have been an Oscar watcher since, well... A really long time.  Like, too-young-for-my-parents-to-let-me-stay-up-and-watch-the-whole-thing long time.  And this year was enough to make me want to give up altogether.  Dear Hollywood, The next thing you should reboot?  THE ACADEMY AWARDS.

OK.  Rant over.

In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday Learns to Hepburn

My all-time favorite movie is The Philadelphia Story.  

Katharine Hepburn's Tracy Lord and Cary Grant's CK Dexter Haven have a romance that's about fifty years ahead of its time, made for the era of Aaron Sorkin, but lived out in the era of George Cukor, which is really just as good.  There's something in the word play, the intelligence of the characters, the quickness of the wit ("No mean Machiavelli is smiling, cynical Sidney Kidd") that speaks to me on a deeper level.  They are imperfect people living imperfect lives, but they're doing the best they can, and in the end they get something akin to happiness.

And then there's Bringing Up Baby.

I had the pleasure of watching it on screen at the Katharine Hepburn Cultural Arts Center this evening, a feat that might be considered redundant, since I totally own the DVD.

But man oh man, was it well worth the effort.

While The Philadelphia Story is the polished, civilized, urbane, adult romance, Bringing Up Baby is nothing less than a roiling madcap frenzy of ridiculousness.  In the absolute best way possible.

Poor Cary Grant's David Huxley is a zoologist looking for funding for his museum.  Nutty Kate's Susan Vance is an eccentric heiress looking for... well, somewhere to keep the pet leopard her brother sent up from Brazil.  She may or may not also be looking for love.

Let's just say this:  There's a zoologist in possession of a very important bone for his collection.  There's a dog named George who steals and buries bones.  There's a "good" leopard on the loose.  There's also a "bad" leopard on the loose.  There's an alcoholic gardener who's seen everything, a big-game hunter who can't recognize the leopard mating call ("it's a loon," indeed), a psychiatrist who continually falls victim to theft, and a sheriff so desperate to be re-elected that he locks up exactly the wrong people.

In the middle of it all are David and Susan, running around like lunatics (no wonder she's so skinny!) trying to find the bone, trying to capture the leopard, and trying to keep everyone else at bay.  And also trying (well, at least she is) to fall in love.  Is it realistic?  Absolutely not.  In fact, in the end, I'm not even sure why they like each other.

Kate is phenomenal.  She bounces from scene to scene, lit with an energy that cannot be tamed.  And that insane giggle, that perfectly screeched "Oh, David," gives Cary Grant the exact right balance for his deadpan slide into the gaslight.  

It's funny, it's sweet, and it's the original screwball comedy.  What more do you need than that?

In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday Loves to Travel.

Hi Friends!

It's been a busy week.  I detoured to Orlando for Tuesday/Wednesday (Yes, it was warm, but the sun wasn't really out, and before you get jealous, I was there for about twenty-four hours, going to a convention that took place in my hotel.  Visiting Mickey we were not).

One of the strangest parts of my life (now) is that I do relatively little travelling.  Which is ironic, given the pace of my autumn, but it's true-- in previous lives there was a time I got on a plane for a round-trip about once a month.  Yikes.

So travelling for business now feels natural, like returning to an old friend.  One of the best parts of travelling for me is the opportunity to read my Vanity Fair, cover-to-cover, without feeling like I have something else I should be doing.  I often have this problem (the "shouldn't I be doing something else?" problem) because for the most part I should be reading something to review for this blog (...) or marathoning something (...) or catching up on all of the back eps of Supernatural I have hiding on my hard drive.

Not so, this week.  No book (*sob*), no laptop (*whimper*)... no problem?!  Vanity Fair (or any magazine, I'm sure) is key for plane travel, because no matter what happens they can't take it away from you.  It doesn't have to come out of your bag to go through the x-ray machine, it doesn't have to be turned off and stowed for takeoff/landing, and it will not run out of battery.

What I like about Vanity Fair specifically is that the articles are long, but not too long, and can be parceled out at any stage of the journey; standing in the security line, waiting at the gate, and indeed, after the captain tells the flight attendants to prepare the cabin for landing.

This month, I am particularly enchanted by this article by Michael Lewis, entitled When Irish Eyes Are Crying.  It's not a nice article, it's about the economic fall of Ireland and the idiocy (yes, I am perfectly comfortable with the judgy-mcjudgyness in that statement) of the Irish government following the collapse.  Let's just say to those who are upset by the bailouts: at least our government didn't guarantee every penny lost.  What I really like about this piece is that it is totally comprehensible; for the same reasons I had slight issues with the Vanderbilt biography, I often can't read articles about the economy because I simply cannot follow what-in-the-holy-hell is going on.  The Vanity Fair piece is uncompromising in its analysis, and extremely clear on all points.

It also set me on a warpath to buy property in Dublin.  You know, like a vacation home.  Who's with me?

There's also this most badass piece on Lauren Bacall, a most badass chick.  Perhaps my next in-car book needs to be a Bogie bio.  Hmmm...

Happy Thursday, all.  Be sure and come back soon (Maybe tomorrow, Wendy Pan?  Maybe?) for A Skeptic's Review of The Blades of the Rose.  It's gonna be a good one.

In Which We Introduce Monday Menu Mayhem

Greetings, salutations, and the Happiest of New Years!

If you're anything like me, you've spent the last two weeks celebrating, recovering, sleeping, celebrating, and recovering again.  And also, admiring some pretty badass Christmas presents.

But you probably didn't spend two weeks trying to come up with an awesome new regular blog feature that would a) be awesome and b) add to the awesomeness of this blog.  Or I don't know, maybe you did.  Recommendations may be left in the Comments section.

Firstly and foremostly, we have a new look (hooray...?) and you'll notice handy dandy labels at the bottom of all of the posts.  Want to see all of our reviews?  Want to read posts from back in the day when we didn't know what we were doing?  Want to verify that we continue to not know our ass from our elbow?  Look no further.

NOW THEN.  When I'm not reading or writing or running around like a lunatic, I like to cook.  I like to cook a lot.  I got a new KitchenAid, a new All-Clad frying pan, and a new Star Wars apron for Christmas (AHHHHH!) in addition to the joint, couple-y purchase of a Dutch oven with a certain Boy Scout.

Needless to say, there is a lot of cooking in my future.

What I also got though, was the newest Nigella Lawson tome, Nigella Kitchen: Recipes From the Heart of the Home.  I love this book.  I love the obscene way she writes (I mean, really... she writes cooking like Kresley Cole writes sex), I love that she totally contradicts herself (recipe calls for boneless chops, recipe introduction says she herself uses bone-in all the time...), and I love that the recipes are fabulously do-able, without excessively weird ingredients or overly fussy health stipulations.

This is the way I like to cook.

So Boy Scout looks through the book (Since we're at a commitment level where it's what... one-fourth his anyway?  Still mostly mine, but living in his house so... yeah.  "Ours.") and decides that he loves it too.  And that "we" need to make all of the recipes, Julie & Julia style.

And for those wondering, by "we" he means: "mostly you."  Meaning me.

And I think this is not a bad idea.

SO.  Every Monday morning, we shall have a report on the Menu Mayhem that ensued over the weekend or the previous week.  I'll review the recipe, the ease, the deliciousness, and the mayhem.  Because yes.  When I cook, there is mayhem.

What better way to kick off the experiment than on a cold January Sunday, with a recipe that uses both the new frying pan and the new Dutch oven?  I can think of nothing more appropriate.  So into the oven went the Pork and Apple Hotpot, a glorious amalgamation of apples, onions, bacon (which to me always indicates a winning recipe), pork chops, and apple roux-thingy that came out three hours later as the perfect Sunday meal (with leftovers!)

This first time I tried hard to stick to the recipe (not a strong suit of mine unless baking), but next time we have definite additions in mind.  Like mustard in the roux.  And a little cognac "for flavor."  And definitely more sear-age on the pork chops.  Definitely.

OK then.  New feature... featured.  Boy Scout, perhaps you'd like to comment on the leftovers...?

In Which I Take the Rest of the Year Off.

Dear Friends,
As I'm sure is the case with all of you, things have been out of control for me in the past few weeks, and it doesn't look like it's going to let up any time soon.

I sat down to write a Thoroughly Obsessed post last Thursday and it was... bad. Because I've got nothing.

So, I've decided take the rest of the year off. I'm going to come back relaxed and refreshed (and having read at least two books) the first week in January. I'm even planning another weekly staple column to go along with Thoroughly Obsessed. Aren't you excited?

As consolation I leave you with the following oh-holy-hell-badass videos. Their awesomeness cannot be overstated.

May you have a Merry Christmas, Festivus, whatever. And may 2011 bring you nothing but good health and happiness.

See you next year!

In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday Finds a Too Stupid to Live Heroine.

I think I have written about this before, so if you’re bored of this topic I apologize in advance. I’m reading a new book this week (a new book whose purchase was fully supervised and semi-endorsed by the Scout Master), and the heroine is Too Stupid to Live (TSTL).

I’m not going to get into the major plot of the book, or even tell you the title, the name of the author, etc. The review will be ready for next week. All I want to talk about, for a moment, is when a heroine is so dumb you want to punch her in the face.

And then stop reading the book about her.

So far, I have read up to page 53. That’s right, the heroine is so mind-blowingly dumb I want to lure her into a darkened alley and smash her head in with a frying pan already. If only because it would be so easy. On page 53.

Let’s do bullet points, “You Might Be a Redneck” style.

*If you witness a murder and think you have been identified as a key witness by the murderer, but don’t request police protection, you might be TSTL.

*If you are a newspaper reporter and witness a murder and think it’s a great idea to write a first-hand account of the event (including description of the guy you think made you!) to be published on the front page of the paper, you might be TSTL.

*If the Chief of Police comes to you and tells you that you’re a dumbass for writing your eyewitness account of the crime because now your life is in danger, and you hide behind the first amendment to continue writing about it anyway, you might be TSTL.

*If after the Chief of Police tells you you’re a dumbass you go to the hospital to question the only other witness to the murder to ask him about why someone might want to murder you now, you might be TSTL.

*If you run in to the man you think is the murderer in a hospital corridor and do not immediately scream bloody murder, you might be TSTL.

*If that man kisses you to shut you up (!!) after dragging you into a closet while acting extremely sketchy (!!) and not only do you not kick him in the nads, but you can’t stop thinking about him in a lusty way afterwards, you might be TSTL.

*If after the Chief of Police and Sketchy Kissy Dude (undercover agent, natch) tell you your life is in danger, you decide to go to the neighborhood where the shooting took place and knock on doors to dig up more information, YOU MIGHT BE TSTL.

I’m really disappointed by this, because I read a previous book by this author (same series) and while the heroine was no shining beacon of common sense, she most definitely was not as dumb as this bitch.

Now that that’s off my chest, I feel a lot better. And I hope you do too.

Aren’t you excited for this book review????

In Which I Win at NaNoWriMo.

I'm coming back tomorrow with a review of Eloisa James' A Kiss at Midnight, but in the meantime I just had to share the news of how awesome I am.

Special thanks to all who listened to me whine, to Scout for asking me every single day (!!) if I had written yet, and to the long plane rides that taught me that I can indeed write 5,000 words at a clip.

In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday is Thankful. And a Day Early.

Happy Thanksgiving! It’s that most wonderful time of the year where family and friends come together to celebrate the awesomeness of being family and friends. I’m a huge fan of this time of year in general; I like that it’s getting colder and that the trees are looking sinister, and I like that it is suddenly a really really great idea to sit at home under a blanket and read a book.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday because everyone celebrates it (Well, everyone in America. Hello British readers!). There’s no need for political correctness around Thanksgiving, no wondering if you just wished someone to have a pleasant holiday that they don’t even celebrate. You just say “Happy Thanksgiving” and smile when the other person wishes you the same.

Everyone has different traditions, but woven through it all are a few basic truths: we will eat turkey and potatoes and cranberry sauce and pie, dammit. And then we will have the ceremonial watching of the football (GO PATS!).

In the spirit of being totally cheesy, please find herewith the things I am thankful for this year. In no particular order:

*My family. It’s crazy, we’re crazy, and I’m at that time in my life where I seem to be acquiring a whole other branch. You can’t pick your family, but if I had been given the choice, I wouldn’t have picked anyone else.

*The continued health of my family. Despite my own run-ins with fatal disease this summer, we remain a remarkably hale and hearty bunch. We have friends who are having scares, or who have recently received some bad news, and they are in our thoughts every day. I am so grateful that it looks like we’ll get through 2010 unscathed (with some of us doing better than ever).

*At the risk of alienating everyone with my grossness, I’m thankful for Boy Scout. I’m not going to say more than that, though, because I already just threw up a little in my mouth.

*My MacBook Pro. This mighty machine has made my life at least 3 times easier, and at least 4.35 times more efficient. Thank you, Apple, for creating something that helps me keep my sanity.

*My beagle. He’s a regular pain in the ass, but he sure does give us something to talk about. And he’s too cute for me to hold any sort of long-term grudge about the burying-a-dug-up-bone-in-my-bed incident.

*My books. Obvious much? But in the past year the importance of books and reading in my life could not have been more apparent. I love to read, and I love to read romance novels. I’m just really thankful that there are so many awesome ones still waiting to be discovered (same goes for “television shows”).

*This forum. I’m thankful for the interwebs and the fact that a girl like me can get on her small soapbox and talk about one of the things I love most, and some of the things I don’t. Thanks for reading.

From my home to yours, a very happy, healthy, and overstuffed Thanksgiving. Just remember, it’s not shameful to go back for thirds.