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My little brother makes the best omelette I've ever tasted. No hyperbole in this entry: the very best. And I've had omelettes in Paris, Belgium, Disney World and fancy omelette-specialty restaurants in New York.

He made one for me on Friday morning. I watched him carefully; omelettes are very easy to make, and they're pretty much the only thing I can cook without screwing up even a little bit. But I had never seen omelette-making like this before: lots of butter (we're sadly Teflon-free at my house), no spatula, and flipping. The result was evenly-golden-on-both-sides perfection. And he slid it delicately onto my plate, folding it over the cheese as he slid.

I tried to repeat the results this morning for Gina, but, spoiled by the Teflon, went too light on the margarine (Mint Manor doesn't use much butter), and ended up with the same old omelette I always make: good, but nothing spectacular.

Maybe one day he'll teach me.

Wow, this was a very long way of stalling before taking my shower. Erin went into the city early today to go to some comics thing and she wants us to meet her. I've been very bitchy about it. I have, in fact, been a supreme crab for the past couple of weeks. I do not blame the caffeine withdrawal or the carbs binge or anything other than my own need to be a bitch, which is a terrible thing. I'm going to try and be better.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:33 PM | shower me with attention