Xan: Here's my excuse

I haven't done much cooking recently, because my kitchen is currently being renovated.  It was in bad shape; in fact, let me tell you about it. 

The old kitchen suffered primarily from what I call the Few Inches problem.  But don't be fooled by the name, for it was no small problem.  For one, the floor was so high that we couldn't open the back door more than a Few Inches.  Furthermore, a high velocity fan blade smashed into a certain cabinet door whenever it was opened more than a Few Inches.  Also, the dishwasher, which was supposed to be attached to the countertop, was simply sitting loose between the cabinets, meaning that when the door was closed with enough force to actually seal it -- so as to prevent leakage and all -- the entire machine was pushed back under the counter a Few Inches, which apparently caused it not to drain, which apparently caused leakage. Indeed, once you have absorbed this much, you will hardly be surprised to hear that the wobbly fridge was off the level by a Few Inches, that we had only a Few Inches of counter space, or that the cabinets had been assembled so poorly that several shelves would not stay up because the cabinet walls were a Few Inches too far apart.  

Now, say what you will about the idiot who put this place together, but I think we can all agree that he was definitely not worried about compensating for something.  I haven't the slightest idea what he was thinking, but at least we can rule that one out.

Anyways, despite its shortcomings, the old kitchen did get the job done, as long as you didn't mind the constant risk of death-by-detached-fan-blade-hurtling-through-the-air, or your bread never rising enough by a few inches.  I was actually okay with it, personally.  But my parents (who claim to deeply enjoy this sort of work) were hell-bent on righting all the wrongs that lay therein.  They're part of the rebel alliance, you see.  And at this point it should come as no surprise that they did ultimately manage to exploit a weakness in the structure of the cabinets/walls/counters/flooring.  Force was involved.  Also, power tools.  In short, they blew the whole thing up.

Here are the guilty parties, wanted in at least 3 states and possibly England:

Study these faces well.  You never know when you might see them standing next to you in line.  If the man in front of you has just talked the cashier into giving him $600 worth of stuff for $12.09, there is no need to check the face.  You are advised to contact the authorities immediately upon any contact.  Under no circumstances should you attempt to apprehend any of these subjects yourself.   

Fastforward to the present.  We now have black galaxy.  That's no moonstone, mind you.  It's a counterspace workstation specially geared both literally and figuratively towards our future conquest of the culinary galaxy.  And even though the kitchen is only half-finished, appearing yet as a skeleton of its future glory, I'll let you in on a little secret.  Thanksgiving thinks it can creep up on us, catch us by surprise while we're still vulnerable...well, it has another thing coming, heh heh heh.  Wait for it...wait for iiiiiiitt....That's Right, come Turkey Day, you will witness the firepower of this Fully Armed and Operational Kitchen*. 

Yes, you, dear reader of this blog.  Great things are coming.  And if you don't believe me, then...I find your lack of faith disturbing**.  There, I said it.

The moral of this post: If it doesn't make sense you to, you're probably missing something.  I don't claim that the inverse holds, but I would be comfortable asserting that if your name is Linden, then you are not missing anything.

* No?  I know, that line wasn't in the book anyways.

**Still no?  You have seen Star Trek***, haven't you?

***Intentional.  Someone actually asked me this.