Hello O Reader of the Blog! It seems that I have had a bit of a… hibernation period, in terms of blogging. ^^’ Sorry about that. Today, I come out of my hibernation to wish you a happy day full of green, and if you want to watch something green…. :D Have you or have you not heard of TMNT (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles)? Because there’s going to be a new TV show (and movie) for it next year. At the end of this post, I think I’ll have a mini-rant about two things regarding that new TV show, but for now, we’re on green things! :D For a green book, why not check out the Fablehaven series? There’s lots of forest in it, and the covers have green on them (not all, but most have some of that lovely emerald colour). For food, why not check out my sister’s Matcha marshmallows? I don’t particularly fancy them myself, but hey, you might! ^_^

Oh, and just so you know… I’ll be transfering a few of my old book reviews over onto this blog, as well as writing a new one soon for The Shadow Alchemist by Pierre Pevel, which I am almost finished with. After that I’ll be starting on Whispers by Phoebe Kitanidis, which looks very very interesting. :D I’m itching to start reading it….

Warning: The following is a mini-rant about two things this writer has seen for the 2012 series of TMNT.

Let’s not dawdle shall we? The two points I want to bring up are Mikey and Donny’s weapons. They gave Mikey a blinkin’ KUSARIGAMA!!!!! I know he’s had weapon changes before (grappling hook, tonfa), but STILL…. I’m going to miss his nunchuks. D: And Donny has NEVER had a weapon change as far as I’m aware. At least he got to keep a staff weapon (even if it does now have a blade on the end, making it a bisento (I think)). I am really hoping there’s a good reason for the weapon change, otherwise I shall be vastly upset about that (not that I’m not now). And the bandana tails for all the turltes are shorter, with Mikey’s being the shortest .The one good thing is that Raph’s eyes are now golden. That is always a good thing. Putting aside my few grievances with what I’ve seen so far, I eagerly anticipate the new TV show, simply because it’s TMNT. :P What’s not to love about four mutant turtles? :D

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When I wrote the post on how she terrorized my poached egg, I remembered a very short story I had written for school revolving around the Baked Alaska she made in the ancient times where cavemen roamed the earth and she had to contend with dragons in her oven if she wanted to actually bake anything. This time is also known as the birth of her blog, which some people seem to believe actually happened in the twenty-first century (how ludicrous). So I decided that it would be a perfect reblogging opportunity, and crawled through the dusty archives (a.k.a. simply put “baked alaska” in the search enginge) and finally found it under miles of dust. I probably won’t stop sneezing for a year, so you had better appreciate the effort. :P It’s also from the days where I mainly ran the blog Chaos of LCD & KenKaniff, which later became & Co.

While You Wait: A Tale of Baked Alaska This entry is a contribution from my sister (she has her own blog, co-run, called Chaos of LCD & Kenkaniff), who had to choose a natural disaster to write about for an assignment for class and she chose the one she knows best: me when experimenting in the kitchen. She wrote it around the time I was making baked Alaska. Hope you enjoy. A nat … Read More

via ♥ Z’s Cup of Tea

Just now, guess what? I was enjoying a poached egg with toast that my sister had made (she only made the egg, she couldn’t have made the wheat bread) with a bit of tomato (it would have been half if I’d had my way). Suddenly, guess what I hear? “OOOOHITLOOKSDELICIOUSOOZINGOUT! Sloooowly…” Okay I exaggerated with how she said it, but she DID say those words. We all know Zoe doesn’t overreact over little things like that (“OOOOH MACRO!”) I proceeded to give her a calm look (a.k.a. the what-the-hell-is-up-with-you? look). Then I leaned away from her slowly. She had been looking at my poached egg ever since I sat down to eat it, and I’d just pierced the yolk because she had just said “but EVERYBODY soaks up the bread with the yolk!” and I had said “Well maybe I’m not everybody.” Apparently, I am though, seeing as I did what she said.

And just as she started to seemingly calm down, she suddenly started up again. “But look at it! It’s oozing out so slowly it’s perfect! And then how it congeals upon touching the bread as it cools.” I gave her another calm look and then told her she was freaking me out and reminding me too much of the crazy automaton Patterson in Like Clockwork by Bonnie Dee (sorry if you haven’t read it and you have no idea how Patterson is crazy). From there, she suddenly gets up and I’m thinking “oh joy, I’ll be able to eat my poached egg on toast with tomato in peace!” and then it abruptly changed from such happy thoughts to “oh no, she’s getting out the camera, quick! HIDE THE MEAL!” Unfortunately, I was too late, and she reached me before I could make a decision between high tailing it from the room to scarfing it down quickly. She’s getting to be a good food papparazo, I can’t get away before she arrives with the flash on (Z inserts here that flash is never used in foodography and she doesn’t advocate it). So for the next few seconds, I try to photo bomb the pictures with my index finger to try and show how displeased I am with this (giggling the whole time) and she either has the nerve to push my hand away or tell me to take my other hand out of the picture, which is still holding onto the fork. Or to reposition the camera. By the time she was done, my egg was colder than it had been, and I told her she had to make me another to compensate. This was more of a demand than a request, seeing as I gave her another look, this one not being so calm (it was a get-on-it-NOW-or-I-will-find-a-way-to-do-SOMETHING-to-your-blog).

Z says: How about I teach you to poach your own eggs?

I say: No conversations inside a post that aren’t being recorded from the recent past, and this is not a foodie blog.

As an added note, she also told me the “perfect” temperature for cooking eggs when she was poaching mine, to which I replied that I have absolutely no interest in the perfect temperature, as long as the bloody thing is cooked!

P.S. The photo will probably end up in her Flickr photo stream. And I’ll probably add it just to make a comment.