As seen on a utility pole yesterday:
The median selling price of a home in Victoria is $1.3 million. I find it curious how there’s someone with enough cash on hand to buy a house in Victoria. Oh, I’m sorry… Ca$h. Yeah, enough fat stacks to trade-in for a home, yet no budget to advertise their services. That sign really is something, although it’s performing better than the sign below it.
Also, I’ve just shared their number on my wildly popular blog. Wow, this is like when Starbucks intentionally fucks up the spelling of your name so that you’ll post a picture of their cup on your social media account.
Perhaps, this is why London Drugs stocks random items such as this faux stone Dachshund:
A great find at $180! A few years ago Canadian Tire was selling this Trojan Gorilla with chafed nipples:
I regret not standing next to it with a banana for scale, but I was alone and did not have a banana on me. Its price tag was likely slightly higher than $180.
To quote another blogger, “Uninteresting thoughts belong on personal blogs where no one cares but the blogger.” Yet, here you are!
I’d been so impressed by the scones Marianne baked for breakfast after spending the night that I’d taken a picture of the recipe (without the publisher’s permission!). I’d never made scones before, and yesterday seemed like a good day to start.
“Literally the oldest person food ever, and I love it!” was the roomie’s reaction when I sent him the recipe. I was about to make Earl Grey and prune scones. The recipe called for prunes soaked in Earl Grey tea.
The batter looked like regurgitated oatmeal mashed into a rectangle baking pan. I made it look worse by dotting the top with soggy prunes as instructed by the recipe. But, wait! Go big or go home: “…then pour the remaining liquid from the soaked prunes over the top and spread flat with a rubber spatula.”
What the freshly resurrected Christ drew Marianne to this recipe in the first place?
The directions said to butter the baking pan and chill the mixture overnight. This morning, I removed the baking pan from the fridge to cut the cold mixture into triangles to transfer to a baking pan. That was not easy as the parchment paper had essentially glued to the buttered baking pan.
My dough triangles turned out more obtuse than intended. They came out of the oven more charred at the bottom than intended, even though I’d removed them six minutes early. While the recipe isn’t without issues, the scones are deceptively yummy.
I’d love to try more recipes from this cookbook. I’ve asked Marianne for the title; in the meantime, I’ll assume it’s called Cookbook for Elderly Eccentrics. I already spent about ten minutes texting her about this recipe this morning. She will be delighted to learn that I haven’t shut up about her Earl Grey prune scones.