Peter The Great Pumpkin

There is a raging (well, by my standards) hurricane outside, I expect to lose power at any moment and we are battling some serious water in the basement. I had talked about this drink a few days ago with DH, and after I lost my cool at the kids for picking on each other - again - he came out of the kitchen with this little beaut in hand. The man is a genius when it comes to edibles.

My favorites
From left to right: Knitting pattern, blank CDs, drink.

I was thinking of a White Russian, only, with Pumpkin Liquor and cream-flavored vodka, and no milk. I had been planning to call it an Orange Russian, but DH suggested calling it Peter the Great Pumpkin.

It's sweet and almost chocolatey, with just a hint of pumpkin pie to it. I think the pumpkin pie liquor is somewhat easily overpowered. Here's what's in it.

Ingredients:
About 2oz. Whipped cream vodka
An airplane bottle of Kahlua (a little less than two ounces)
About 4 ounces (maybe a bit more) of Pumpkin Pie liquor

We're lazy, so I'm pretty sure this is stirred, not shaken.

If I were serving this at a party, I'd start with a nicer glass, and add a dash of pumpkin pie spice, and consider mixing in some leftover pumpkin pie. It was completely delicious, even without the pumpkin piue spice, the fancy glass, the nice lighting, the fall decor in the background, and all the other bits.

National Novel Writing Month - November

A friend posted about NaNoWriMo on FaceBook, and I kind of blew it off... I even told my mom the other day, "I don't have a novel in me; I have nothing to say." She disagreed. Good for her (and me).

I used to wake up and know poems. Or paintings. And I had to get them on paper, or risk losing them. But if it was something good, I knew I had a little time because it would stick with me.

On April 23rd 2011, I woke up knowing the back cover of a book.

Some random internet dragon, not MY dragon

"Tell me you did not just do that." 
"What?" Mike sounded oblivious, as usual. 
"You really can't ask the world's leading physician and philosopher about his debilitating eye injury. Especially not when it has to do with dragons." 
"It was just a question. It's not like he could know." 
"He probably doesn't know. But now he might guess." Mike's seeming blind trust in his it'll-all-be-ok strategy was starting to grate. I tried to keep my cool and also not roll my eyes. I don't think I was being very successful at either one. "The whole world heard those rumors - that it was a dragon gone wrong that took his eye - and everyone on this continent knows he's sensitive about it."

When I woke up, I had the feeling I had already said lines one and two, and I was in the middle of line three. I woke up enough to register the look on DH's face and why he was looking at me like that, and giggled. It was ok to be interrupted by the giggle; I knew I had time.

Now, I have to go find the rest of this story.

Who am "I" and who is Mike? Are we an "us"?
What could the world's leading physician and philosopher possibly "guess"? What really happened to his eye?
What is this place? What's its history?

Ooof. November's going to be a long month.