In Which Our Heroine Gets Snowed In
For those of you not currently aware of the weather patterns of New England, Cambridge is currently getting snowed upon. This started around ten last night, and is forecast to go through tomorrow afternoon, when it will taper off to flurries. Now this is a good thing, as I do have those pesky exams to study for, but I haven't been doing as much of that as maybe my professors would want. Instead, I've gotten all industrious. I have:
- cleaned my room (always a feat and a half. Turns out there's floor under there.)
- Hung shelves in the kitchen. Two of them. And then cleaned the kitchen.
- Broken out the food processor.

The food processor is a grand grand thing. I burnt out the motor on my last one, and when my friend Stuart came to stay in October, I said to him "Don't bring a bottle of wine for me. I want a food processor. With POWER!" I said it jokingly, but damn if he didn't come through. I'm doubly impressed since Stuart can't cook, so he knows nothing about such things as food processors. In fact, a recent IM conversation with Stuart involved him telling me that for the first time ever he had made rice. That's it, just rice. Well, everyone has to start somewhere. I'm not spoiling any suprises by saying that for Christmas I'm cutting him some of the home grown herbs here (the rosemary, the bay, maybe some tarragon), copying ouut some of my more easy recipes, and then baking him some of my famous chocolate chunk, hazlenut and orange cookies. Poverty calls for creativity in the old Chrimbo presents this year. Mostly I'm knitting (although some of these presents may be late. I'm not a fast knitter.) But to bake the cookies, I needed to chop them. In the food processor! And then I made some butternut squash soup. More food proecessor. Now I'm just all a flutter. I'm thinking pecan pie (crusts= processor) and maybe some salsa. Damn I love that food processor.

Speaking of knitting, I think I ought to get to that too. Christmas is coming, and so is Jim! He's going to want his scarf, since after all he's never seen snow!
Love,
Anne