We bought a rice cooker the other night.
Ran to Target as the snow was falling fat, fast, and furious and picked ourselves up one of those baby rice cookers that claims to steam and fluff and do everything you need a rice cooker to do because who wants to worry about cooking rice when you’ve got a Masters thesis to write? Right?
Oh how I’ve missed the non-academic language and lack-of-transition ramblings of this tiny little blog.
Howdy from Minneapolis! Where we apparently adopt other regional phrases like “Howdy!” and use them whenever we please.
So. We bought a rice cooker the other night. That’s some news. It looks like a tiny little crockpot, and we all know how much I love LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOOOVE! cooking with a crockpot. But I’ll confess that Darrin and I don’t really eat a lot of rice. Instead, we recently discovered this sneaky seed called quinoa (pronounced keen-wah…thanks YouTube) that looks like a seed and feels like a seed but most definitely tastes like rice. You could say that it’s practically pure protein disguised as rice. And wouldn’t ya know, quinoa-pronounced-keen-wa can be made ever so nicely in our new little rice cooker. Which, maybe more accurately, is actually a quinoa cooker disguised as a rice cooker that cooks quinoa-pronounced-keen-wah disguised as rice.
It’s all very “Mission Impossible” over here in our kitchen.
In other news, I’ve been hunched over my desk for the past two weeks, trying to maintain a healthy research schedule as I try to finish up my Masters degree. I’m pretty positive my overall posture has taken a hit since I started pursuing this degree. By summer I’ll be permanently hunched like Quasimodo and one of my eyes will adopt an uncontrollable twitch from spending far too much time staring at my computer screen. But it will all be worth it, Darrin tells me. We’ll see what he says when Quasi-Gracie needs help walking down the street because her knuckles drag along the sidewalk…
Did I tell you about the night Darrin nearly sliced off his thumb chopping tomatoes? It was all very grotesque…what with the red juices from the tomato and the darker red juices from Darrin’s thumb. Domesticity can be pretty mundane right up until you need tomatoes in your salad. Then, apparently, domesticity can be super dangerous and gruesome. Luckily Darrin’s thumb remains intact. He can still give high-fives rather than high-fours, which would just be way too confusing.
As to this outfit I’m wearing, it’s freezing here in Minneapolis. Cold. Bitter. Mushy. And it’s been cloudy for the past week. So I’m wearing black. In mourning for the sunshine that used to be oh so familiar and the warm weather that didn’t confine me to my academic batcave. Black dress. Black coat. And a big ol’ blanket scarf that really does live up to it’s name (*praise hands emoji*).
Hope you’re staying warm wherever you are! Thanks for stopping by!