Get your Marple on!

Once again, lots of baking over the weekend. A lemon cake mailed off to dad for father’s day. Lemon walnut vegan scones for breakfasts. Baked eggplant parm for dinner and sandwiches and the dough was made for tortillas but they never did get pressed. I was just too tired. They will just have to be my new experiment in how long you can refrigerate tortilla dough before it won’t work anymore. Although I did discover in with the last batch of tortillas that half white flour/half whole wheat pastry flour and transfat free Crisco make for some tasty and reasonably healthy discs of goodness.

This weekend the husband type was incredibly busy with work but there was one thing I knew would get him away from the computer. And it is not at all what you think…it is far more disturbing.

We are old. We are sad little old people who hole up in their apartment and watch way too much t.v. But there is one show, one above all others that trumps everything. Oh, we like your Battlestar, we have secret resources to indulge our Doctor Who fetish. He is even kind enough to tape Lost and let me watch pretty much anything else but if you mention to him that there is a Miss Marple on tonight all work must cease. Dinner must be eaten and out of the way by 9 p.m. Bladders must be emptied because the PBS, it don’t cotton to no commercial breaks.

I don’t know how we got to this point. The show is really good. And other people must have thought it would be because it’s had absolutely stellar guest stars. Guest stars that make me think that someone, somewhere, still loves me. And Geraldine McEwan…brilliant. But when the husband notices that there is an episode on he will declare that is is time to “Get his Marple on!” and settle in for the next hour. I know, it sounds cute and charming and all. It’s actually quite…yeah. Still, it’s a damn fine series. So is Foyle’s War. And I just watched my first episode of Rosemary and Thyme and quite enjoyed it. I suppose it’s time to start supporting public television. Although I never need to hear anyone say “I’m getting my Marple on” again.