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I figured I would give you all the conclusion in place of the subject, so you all would know what you were getting into. Or: days 2-3 in Mariposa.

It was immensely lovely being able to finally meet [livejournal.com profile] sartorias in person, and naturally wonderful to get to see [livejournal.com profile] coffeeandink, [livejournal.com profile] sophia_helix, [livejournal.com profile] canandagirl, [livejournal.com profile] yhlee, and [livejournal.com profile] rachelmanija again. I was also very impressed with my getting up at 10:30 not just once, but twice on the weekend, although the others seemed to be not so impressed, having gotten up at the crack of dawn. But! 10:30 is pre-noon! It is an accomplishment.

On Friday, we had tasty bacon-tomato-onion spaghetti made by Mely, though somewhat light on the tomato end ("Do you have any more canned tomatoes?" Mely asked. "We have... tomato soup, does that work?" Rachel replied. Mely nixed that option) and roasted asparagus by Sophia. Lunch Saturday was Jody's very tasty tuna casserole, Rachel's potato salad as a mid-afternoon snack, and bazillion-clove garlic chicken and artichoke steamed with garlic and lemon with a garlic-lemon-butter dipping sauce. Everything was very good, but I note the artichoke in particular, as I have never had it that way and would always have it that way in the future, save the large amount of work involved. For dessert on Saturday, I decided to make souffle.

Unfortunately, the universe was intent on proving that embarrassing people is no fun unless there is an audience. Having said I had successfully made chocolate souffle twice on Rachel's LJ, I began joking that naturally, this souffle would fail to rise, or something else equally disastrous. After a scare in which I forgot to bring my electric hand mixer and thought I would have to beat the eggs by hand, Mely found an electric hand mixer in the kitchen. I made the batter ahead of time, spooned it out and chilled it, then went to check and see how high altitudes might affect souffle cooking. Then I went to preheat the oven.

"Oh, by the way," Sophia said, "we discovered that the oven doesn't tell you when it's done preheating."

After a few minutes had passed, the inside of the oven felt sufficiently warm, and I popped the souffle in. "Does the timer tell you when things are done?" I asked.

"No!" said everyone else.

We chatted around the dinner table and I went to check on the souffle. There were still a few minutes on the timer, but the souffle still looked very wet and unrisen. I apologized to Sherwood, who was attempting to stay awake specifically for the souffle, then sat down for a few more minutes. The timer did ding, contrary to what everyone said. I checked. Still wet.

I set the timer for longer and sat back down. Then I thought to ask: "Um... the oven isn't in Celsius is it?" (as we had been complaining about metric vs. English systems). Except that made no sense, because 375 Celsius is through the roof.

"Noooo," said Rachel.

"Huh," I said.

We both got up to see if anything was wrong (and I apologized to Sherwood for the nth time), when I discovered... the oven wasn't on.

Aside from that, the souffle turned out ok, though it rose more than expected and sort of mushroom-clouded over the ramekins.

I would say this was a cruel trick of fate, only the next day, when I was making mi fun (rice noodles), I horrifyingly discovered that other households do not have soy sauce as a basic, and I had forgotten to bring some. "Er... they have General Tso's chicken sauce?" Sophia said doubtfully from the pantry. I vehemently rejected it. Thankfully, she ended up finding a jar of satay sauce (the stuff you put in hot pot sauce), so I made very odd mi fun with satay sauce, leeks, onions and bell peppers and pretended it was Singaporean.

On our drive in to Mariposa, Mely and I saw a completely random phallic obelisk protruding from the very flat landscape. Sadly, it was much less phallic on the way back, as trees were also protruding vertically from the landscape, but it was still completely random.

On Friday, we were having root beer, but because of the high altitude, the root beer would keep foaming over the lip of the bottle. When notified hers was doing so, Rachel put her entire mouth ovr the bottle neck and sucked up the foam, and the entire table burst out laughing, because we are twelve (and me and Mely had seen the Angel vid "Whatever" the night before, complete with symbolic gushing geysers and trains in tunnels). Alas for Rachel, her root beer seemed to either have a grudge, or to really enjoy the experience, because it continued to phallically overflow, particularly when she was talking about Ichigo's canonically very large zanpakuto in Bleach and how it was bigger than everyone else's!

As a grand finale, for the fifth or so time the root beer overflowed, Rachel tried to suck away the foam as usual, only I am sure someone made an inappropriate comment, causing her to spew root beer all over the table and floor.

Rachel and I also watched the very excellent maniacal laugh arc of Gundam Wing (don't spoil in comments!); I translated some amazingly unsketchy Gundam Wing doujinshi ("Wufei wants to sleep with Trowa. Not like that! They're brothers! No! Not like that either!") and some not-so-unsketchy Gundam Wing doujinshi ("AIIIEEE MY EYES!" I said, eyes lighting on the first panel. Then: "Winged angel Heero in spandex?"); I read Indian comics with very suggestive ads in the back about Atul the Cheese Boy and his cricket bat, a very sexy illustration of Krishna, a not-sketchy picture of Krishna eating butter that I immediately thought of as sketchy, thanks to having learned what the infamous butter scene in Last Tango in Paris was infamous for, and poisoned breasts; Mely played me a song about brains in jars; Sophia, Jody and I talked knitting; I pestered Yoon incessantly about Korean; and Sherwood made Gundam Wing costume design seem much less cracktastic than we had previously thought (Zechs' crazy boots and Treize's cape and the uniforms in general are inspired by actual historical uniforms!).

I also managed to sic Damo on people, who should all write it up so that I can conquer LJ via kdramas, and we watched some of The Pretender (Ms. Parker is made of win) and Romance of the Red Dust (aka, Technicolor female assassins), which needs an entire post of its own. And! The rats were admired and petted by many people, even though Bya was mercilessly made fun of for resembling a mochi or a baseball more than he resembled a rat. And x 2! My rats are so dorky that when I hang their hammocks from tinier cages, they can't figure out how to crawl into them. Bya in particular seemed to think that if he got his nose in, the rest of him would surely follow, and he was very surprised when he let go and it did not magically happen.


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September 2015

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