scotchymcsing.bsky.social
Blessed are the cheesemakers. she/her
935 posts
130 followers
149 following
Regular Contributor
Active Commenter
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Welp. That’s enough news for me today.
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Right back at you, my dear.
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Right back at you!
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Oh Lily! All the best to you. I am not as active on this platform as I was on the other one, but I am so glad to be connected to you regardless.
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Hey @jwfhusker.bsky.social, you see this? Her Grace Duchess Goldblat approves.
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All the best to you, today and always.
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Jimmy, Duchess Goldblatt was the highlight of my Twitter days. I would never stoop to hijack her account. She is a goddess.
But you do know that the hard candies are the butterscotch discs found in Grandma‘s purse.
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Beloved, my cousin just quote tweeted this to me and asked if I had hijacked your account. Never would I dare! I shall put him in his place.
By the way, the hard candy is butterscotch.
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Today I learned that my dictionary has merch.
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I’m not 100% certain, but this may have been an entry in a regional contest we have here in these parts called the Peep Show, wherein rural Nebraskans submit Peeps dioramas for judging.
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Peeps in general have that effect,
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Peeping Tom?
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Alive, well, and finally home, where different local beer awaits.
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I just had four local beers at the hotel bar. Tomorrow’s wake up call will be painful. Worth it.
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I get to go home from my conference tomorrow. I am going to buy a brisket and brine, because St. Patrick’s Day is a state of mind, not a date. Also, I am filled with stout.
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I’m away on business. But oh, the poor cellist!
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I had two local beers and one of the best burgers I’ve ever had outside of the Midwest at a dive bar upon which I stumbled. Still sad about my inability to cure a brisket in time for the day, but much less sad.
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Well, a dive bar that serves only local beef and local beer oh god I’m home.
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That name alone is worth the price of admission.
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I am, alas, at a work conference, so no brining of the brisket for me this year. I had beer and fresh seafood, so I’m not entirely unhappy.
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I’ve already had a beer. And it was not green, because I am not a Philistine.
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I am with you on this 99.9% of the time, but you will have to pry my dirty gin martinis from my cold dead hands.
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On it like white on rice. Bless you.
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My liver is not going to survive this administration.
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*I’m anticipating, and curse you, voice to text.
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Takes one to know one is all I’m saying.
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…um. I anticipating failure. Sorry in advance.
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Miss her every day.
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I’m sad too. And we do not care about football in this household, but the Super Bowl was an excuse for me to fix pizza for The Cellist. So I kind of feel like I won.
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And yes, I know it’s not over. But it’s kind of over.
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My poor spouse was so confused. “What is this western themed weird ass hunting catalog?“
Yeah. I’m confused too.
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I recently obtained an appliance that is also a dehydrator, and so for the first time in 20-ish years I considered making jerky. I googled once. I now have three jerky themed catalogs that arrived in the mail. The struggle is real.
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You never did, for you have been forever in my heart. What a joy to see you on this platform.
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Could be worse.
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One of the things I love about my blue dot of a college town in a frighteningly red state is our local spice shop, which carries all of this. Good on you.
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Indirectly related: I recently looked into keeping backyard chickens, but we have foxes and coyotes. And, you know. Rizzo. So I guess I will take out some loans and continue to buy my eggs.
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Yesssss.