Because it is Thursday

Because it is Thursday, and Mom and Barbara go out on Thursdays (and apparently talk about my blog from time to time, which makes me think that hobbies need to be found--not that I don't appreciate the readership, because I do), I need to post something.  I have a whole bunch of posts stored in my head for the food blog--though I'm forgetting how to make the curried carrot soup, so perhaps that's one post less--but I'm rather lacking in worthwhile content here on this lil ol' blog.

Depending on your perspective, there's either nothing to report or lots to report.  Three weeks from tomorrow we'll be in Nottingham for the weekend, at what might possibly be the coolest beer festival ever. We went last year for the first time, and it was awesome to max, and we're meeting up with friends from Leicester again this year (same friends, even.  Perhaps our only friends.).  This year, however, we're more prepared.  Not only are we going for two nights--because you can't sample 900+ ales and ciders in only one night--but this time we're going prepared.  Camping chairs for the festival, since seats and tables are not provided, Tylenol/paracetamol for the head, multi-vitamins to prevent the crushing weakness brought on by alcohol purging all vitamins and minerals from the body, and "magic juice" which apparently prevents vomiting.  Water nearly made The Boy hork--in Sainsbury's, no less, while I was trying to find a sandwich--but Copella Apple Juice made him semi-human again.  I'm also insisting upon some V-8, which has a different set of nutrients in it.  We'll even bring some food to supplement the pork pies and other food at the festival, though we're planning on eating at Olde Trip (under the Castle, where the festival is) and I'd like to try the pub that's across from the entrance to the Castle grounds, which I believe is a Castle Rock Brewery pub.

Eight weeks from Sunday we'll be on a plane to the states.  Eight weeks from Saturday we'll be on a train to the super-posh Radisson-Blu hotel in Manchester airport, because I didn't think about trains when I booked our flights.  My logic was "hey, it's the same price to fly Sunday as it is to fly Monday, so we get an extra day for free!"  Except trains don't start running on Sundays much before 9am, and our flight leaves Manchester at 9am, so that doesn't really work.  Oops.  But still, a nice way to ease us into our holiday.  And no faffing about with cabs or hotel shuttles, because there's literally an entrance to the hotel *in* the airport.  Badass, that is.  Also, we've stayed their before, and the fear of bedbugs or getting raped/robbed is minimal.  In our advancing years, The Boy and I seem to be afraid of new hotels, especially if they're cheap.

Beyond our future travels, I've applied for a few jobs, made about 2 gallons of soup in varying flavors (broccoli cheddar, curried carrot, parsnip Parmesan, and chicken and dumplings), randomly made a half-batch of chocolate chip cookies last night (note: a half batch makes way faster than a full batch, but far fewer than half the amount of cookies.  I did eat a bunch of dough, and saved some for The Boy, so that may account for part of the problem).  I have a weird variant of writer's block, in that I know where and what and how, but I need the words to get them there (trans: I hate and suck at writing prophecy.  I also hate the notion of prophecy, which is not lessening my problems.).

I also bought this:

I named it Roger.

For reference purposes, the white bit is nearly as long as my arm, and I can't actually wrap my hand around it and have my fingers touch.