Monday, December 28, 2015

Back to Work

After the holidays, it's time to get back to work.

This is the first year in a long, long time when I didn't work through the holidays. I did a few business-related things, but for the most part I played, and watched the snow fall. I think I needed the mental break. I feel more focused now. I'll need focus! I have a lot of projects ahead of me, mostly creative projects, but there's always something to do around the farm.

We're sort-of expecting baby goats in February. How many, I couldn't tell you. Twins again? Is more than one doe pregnant? I asked, but they're not talking. They just demand more hay. Anyway, they need the barn divided, so that the new babies don't have to contend with big goats that are not their mothers, and so the big goats don't have to be banished into what will no doubt be a huge storm the day they're born. Because, as we all know, goats pick the day they deliver and it will be a nasty, nasty day. Ginger, the first doe to deliver our very first kids, was nice to me. The weather was fine and good, relatively warm and mostly sunny.

I doubt that MaryAnne will do the same for us, assuming that she freshened. This will be her first time, so we'll keep a close watch over her.

I have two big fencing projects, a fix-the-coop project, gardening stuff, and normal animal maintenance chores on top of that. I'm already sensing that there aren't enough hours in the day, and that's with the knowledge that I'll soon no longer have 40 hours of each week dedicated to a normal day job.

I'm glad I got a holiday before everything ramped up. I hope you all had a wonderful holiday too, and that you're safe, well-fed, and warm. Best wishes, K

Thursday, December 24, 2015

New Computer, New Life

It's amazing how much a new computer gets in the way of things. A big one for this blog was that I was auto-magically signed in all the time, so I'd forgotten not only my password, but which email I'd used to set up the account. Important, because I'd somehow cross-connected my Google+ with my DH's account, and apparently there's no power in the Universe that can untangle them.

This morning I finally decided to take a chance. Finally, I've properly returned to this blog.

Just in time to start posting about retirement from my day job to become a full-time writer.

Although I spent a number of years writing full time, there were a lot of differences between then and now. For one thing, I had small children, and less writing experience. Another huge difference was the publishing process. Short fiction was a vehicle for promoting myself so that I could potentially attract the attention of a book publisher. When I did submit book-length projects for publication, it usually took months, sometimes well over a year, to hear back. I had some personalized rejections which bolstered my confidence in the process, but in a five year period I believe I sent in my manuscript a grand total of three times.

Short stories were a whole 'nother beastie. I submitted quite a few stories, and managed to kill a couple of magazines. (We writers are a weird bunch, in case you've forgotten. When a magazine accepts a story and then folds shortly afterward, we accept blame for that.) I took classes, read quite a bit, became active in a writer's group ....

And then went back to work.

Now, being a full-time writer is a completely different thing. Not only do I have more experience, more connections, and not only have my kids moved out and onward with their lives in separate households, but self-publishing is now a viable option. With self-publishing comes a whole new set of responsibilities and costs. I won't get into that. Lots of others have written about the self-publishing process as well as hybrid publishing.

What becoming (in four more working days after today's shift) a full time writer means now is that I'll have time to finish the series of books that I've not only written, but published. It means I'll have time to work on short stories and submitting them to paying markets again. It means I'll be putting a lot of hours into a semi-secret project for a publisher, to be revealed later.

It means my life is about to change in huge ways that I can't predict. I'm scared, and excited, and I'm hitting the ground running. My office is cleaned up, and my DH and I are going to set up a schedule that includes weekly business meetings. He's been freelancing full time for a while now. He'll not only support me, but guide me. I'll need a lot of guidance.  I must be successful at this. No choice. It'll be a steep learning curve, but those that have gone ahead will show me the way.

I've a got new life to go with my new computer. Happy holidays, and good luck to us all in the New Year.

Monday, August 10, 2015

I am, um, Sparta?

I know. I dropped off the face of the Earth. But I'm back, now, with stories to tell!
I've been working on books, books and more books. I've been gardening. I've been reading. I've been cooking. And, I've begun training.
We're talking some seriously wussy training, here. What am I training for? The Washougal Spartan Race. We just had one, and my friend J. has talked me and my DH into going for it next year.
So what's a Spartan Race? It's a medium (3-6 mile, depending on the course) length run sprinkled liberally with obstacles like a transverse wall, a rope to climb where you have to ring the bell at the top, moats, crawls under barbed wire over a steep, muddy hill, and so on. The idea is to crush the spirit challenge the participants to the limit, and the main goal is to finish the race, although there are folks who are super serious about this and race to win. Those people are in crazy-awesome shape. They are the cross fittest of the fit.
That would not be me. Hence, my training in a pitiful way, though I intend to increase the difficulty of my training days as the year wears on.
My training-thing for today was walking a few miles (I really don't know how many. Let's call it some miles) up a hill to scope out potential trails upon which to train. There's water, steep climb/crawls, bridges, and all kinds of other things where I can attempt to prepare myself for a race that can take up to two hours (or more) to complete. Best time on a recent course in Washougal: 35 minutes.
I've also trotted a few hundred yards through knee-deep water, and I'm taking my attempted chin-ups more seriously.
363 days to go.
I'm so doomed. But it'll be fun!

Sunday, May 24, 2015

Happy Birthday Skipper & Lovee

Sometimes big things come in small packages. Today I helped deliver Skipper, a little boy goat, black and white and full of cute, and Lovee, golden and full of adorable. It was about as nerve-wracking as you can imagine, with a young first-time mom, my first time attending a goat birthing, and with a cold draft shooting up through the barn door into the barn.

But, so much went right! First off, triple blessings: we went to check on the goats before going shopping and saw she was starting to deliver, it wasn't raining, and I had everything ready. Sweet!

When Skipper seemed stuck, with just his two feet showing, I massaged a tiny bit and he slipped right out.

Lovee had no problems being delivered.

Momma Ginger appears to be very healthy and happy.

No kids were rejected.

Although Skipper needed a little help warming up, nursing, and standing, once he got going he got stronger pretty quickly. I worried that we might lose him.

There are still concerns. Ginger has stepped on Skipper a number of times and doesn't seem to be careful about where she lays down. We're not sure how the rest of the herd is going to react to the newcomers (they're all locked out of the barn right now.) The last time we had the barn shut up, Ginger pushed her way out. I've reinforced the door, and she doesn't seem inclined to go anywhere, but if she does that again and the babies try to follow, they will be crushed.

We've had a racoon nosing around. It could kill the baby goats.

So, there are worries, but I think they're pretty traditional worries. Part of farm life is understanding that things don't always go well, and sometimes they go pretty horrifically. There's pain, sorrow, loss, grief and regret. Plenty to go around for everyone. But, we had a really good day today so far. In about twenty minutes we'll go check the goats again. Who knows what we'll find? With luck, two healthy baby goats and a content mother bedded down for the night, safe and sound.

Friday, April 17, 2015

Goat Drama

There's terror in the hills!

Okay, maybe not, but there's definitely nervousness, and anticipation.

One of our baby girl goats appears to be pregnant. Scandalous. I believe she was close enough to having 'made weight' if I count back the months that it should be safe, but we certainly didn't intend for or plan this. She's heavy in the body, but not wide, just ... low. And her udder is filling up. We've had cloud pregnancies before, so there's always a chance of that. But I have a feeling that it was just a matter of chemistry. Two young goats, falling in love, and despite massive disapproval and obstacles (two layers of fence between them) they somehow had at least one clandestine meeting and will be ecstatically happy parents. Maybe.

I'm really glad they had their BoSe boosters way back in a timely manner, and that I wormed them way back in a timely manner with a wormer that's safe for pregnant goats, and so forth.

At least the weather has been gorgeous. I don't have a lot of worries about finding a frozen baby goat in the field. That hasn't stopped me for keeping a close ear out for unusual bleats in the night. So far it's always been Thurston, our young buck, who I hear making odd noises when I go out. He's quite the vocal young boy. But one of these days ....

I hope that, assuming she's actually carrying a baby goat or three, that it will be an easy birth, and that we'll have a healthy kid. Or two. Or three. Because her mother and grandmother both often had triplets. Yikes!

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

20 Sided Sorceress (review)

The 20 Sided Sorceress series by Annie Bellet. I'm on Pack of Lies right now and it's driving me crazy because I don't have enough time to read! All the books (this is book 3) are quick reads and can be read in a day (or less, if you're a fast reader), if one has time.


So, urban fantasies, and so far we have sorcerers, shape-changers, hedge witches, cults, murder mysteries, a hot guy (were-tiger, yum!) and lots of geeky goodies.

The pov character has a game shop/comic book store. Yay!

There is snark, but not so much that you feel guilty afterward (much) for laughing. Witty internal dialogue, of which there is just the perfect amount.

Plenty of danger. An ongoing serial bad guy ex-boyfriend. Edge-of-your-seat action.

Some romance, mostly in the shape of (an ice bucket! oh, wait, wrong story) on again, off again affair, which is (thank you!) not due to miscommunication or dumb misunderstanding but because they have problems. Does not bog the story down. The female protagonist is totally focused on the problem, and, alas, poor hot guy often comes in second. But a close second, as is correct and proper because of his previously mentioned hotness and because he usually treats her very, very well. When he doesn't, he has a reason. And he says sorry. For those of us who are tired of pointless arguing and contrived reasons for tension in romantic couples in urban fantasies, this will be very refreshing.

Recommended. If you're a fan of urban fantasies, or you want to try one and you don't want to pick badly for your first time, get this. Book one is Justice Calling. Only 99¢ to get you hooked. Enjoy!

Wednesday, February 25, 2015


It's been a long time since I've whined about customers. Apparently someone noticed the lack because they decided to be especially obnoxious just to inspire me. Well, I can't really say that sort of thing anymore. I thought it was all about me, but it may actually be all about them.
So I get called for a carry-out and this gray-haired woman tells me she needs a couple of bags of fertilizer and three bags of bird seed.
On it.
While she goes on ahead to her car, I grab a cart and then wheel it to the pile of fertilizer. One, two. Then I go to the bird seed. Three 20 pound bags later, I turn around and hunt for her. Is that her? Nope, driving away. Ah, that must be her by the black car. So I wheel the cart to the black car.
She looks at the cart, somehow dissatisfied. "I forgot my garbage bags at home. Can you put the bird seed bags down first? They don't look too bad."
Ah, dirty bags. NP. I load in the bird seed, put the fertilizer carefully on top of them, and go back. But wait! There are a couple of extra carts, and there's some dirt that needs to be upstacked. So I do that, and then head back to the store.
Who do I run into on my way in? The lady.
"I wanted you to know that I complained."
"I went back and checked and those bags of fertilizer were the dirtiest of all of them."
"I'm sorry. I just grabbed the ones on top."
"I could see putting them in the back of a pickup truck," she said, apparently not realizing that I had no idea what kind of vehicle she drove in, and if she cared so much, why the hell was she picking up fertilizer in it? "But not in my nice car."
"I'm sorry," I say again, feeling slightly less sorry.
"I just wanted you to know I complained."
"I'm sorry," I say, when I really wanted to say well I guess you'll just have to have your slave vacuum out the trunk of your car for you. Oh, but wait, you won't ask them to do that. They have to magically know that it's not up to your standards.
"You should have someone come out here and wipe down all those bags," she added.
What. The. F ... never mind. "Okay," I said. Neither myself, nor anyone else in the store is going to come out here and wipe down every bag of fertilizer and every bag of dirt so that no one else will have this horrible experience that you've had. Oh, wait, you're the only one who cares who brought their 'nice' car to pick up fertilizer. Btw, if she'd asked if I could bring her a plastic bag, I would have. I could have also swept the dirt off with my gloves. But no. She let me load them up and then complained.
Also btw, I went back and checked. I should have given her the two bags with fertilizer caked on the outside of them in addition to the dirt, rather than the ones that had dust and bits of leaves. Those two were not in fact the dirtiest.
Missed opportunity. Next time I'll have to pay attention to which bags I snag.

Thursday, February 12, 2015

Shameless promotion

I'm very happy to announce that Masks, the first book in The Lord Jester's Legacy trilogy, has been included in a PacNW book bundle called Legends and Dreams, featuring, as one of the ladies put it, eight women writers and one lucky bastard. That lucky bastard happens to be Kevin J. Anderson! He and Rebecca Moesta collaborated on a great series called Crystal Doors. I'm honored to be in a bundle with both of them.

Here's the extra-cool part. People get to choose how much they want to pay (with a couple of restrictions).

To go directly to the bundle, just click on the link above. I plan on getting the bundle myself, because it's such a good deal and I've been wanting to read those other books for a while. Plus, I just got a Kindle, so the idea of adding seven (I'm not going to count mine, that would be silly) at just under $2 a book sounds great! Oh, about that ... you get to choose how much you pay, but the minimum is $3, and to unlock various bonus books, you may have to pay up to a minimum of $13 to get them all. That's still less than $2 per full-length book.

This offer is only good for about 2 1/2 weeks, and the link may change after we become the top bundle. (Right now we're 'in the wings' while Writers of the Future finishes up their term.) So if the link on the image doesn't get you there, use this one instead before March 3rd, 2015.

Whew. I feel like I've been crowing for hours. Time to sit back, relax ... and then do a ton more writing. I had a big day in the garden, big enough to get a sunburn and blisters. Totally worth it. But now I feel like I'm behind on what I want to do with the story I'm working on. I haven't even got it switched over to my new computer. So, time to get that in motion. And tomorrow ... tomorrow will be another day.

I'm Back, I Hope!

I managed to get logged into my blogger account from the new computer. I don't know if I'll be able to repeat the process again (it was pretty arduous!) but I have hope.

So, tentatively, I'm happy to announce that this blog will continue here in the place it has since 2005, in a form with which you've all grown familiar.

Book announcement coming soon.

Thanks for reading!!

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Blogger Issues

I'm trying to resolve some issues with Google/Blogger, and it's not going well. So if I disappear from here, that's why. I'll do my best to learn how to blog on my own real and actual website,, sometime soon! There will be pages related to travel, which will include trips to the beach in the Pacific NW, Scotland, and maybe (keep your fingers crossed for me) the British Virgin Islands!! I promise to take lots of pictures. Also soon to come on the website, my trips to Greece, Ireland, Victoria B.C., Gleneden Beach, pet drama, and stuff around the farm. It'll be much easier to navigate and explore via a website rather than viewing it all in blog form. But I will miss this.

I suppose I shouldn't give up hope. But right now I can only seem to access the blog through my old computer, and my old computer is going bye bye.

Thank you all for reading! I've been blogging since August 2005, and it's been a blast. I hope to keep going, if not here, than elsewhere. With the powers of the almighty and wonderful admin of my ISP, I may be able to archive and preserve this blog in another form someplace. This blog will probably not go anywhere, but ... nothing is forever, eh?

Take care, everyone, and thanks again for reading.


Sunday, January 18, 2015

Life: A Rant

I'm on antibiotics twice a day for five days. My lack of joy is so un-exuberant I can't find the words to express it. But, I'm grateful. Grateful for antibiotics. Without them I'd be quite the misery muffin. No worries out there, it's nothing serious. With medical care, this is no big deal. Without medical care, it may have been a whole different story.

With antibiotics, however, come certain side effects. It's only day two and my stomach is already preparing to go on strike. Yogurt is the best medicine for it. I hope the stuff in the fridge is still good, because it's on my to-nom list.

Medicine for medicine. It seems that's how the world goes 'round.

I have this worry about the world, especially the western world. Worries are useless, you do realize. Worrying does nothing. Worrying is that thing people do when they're helpless to do anything about something. Waiting for their kids to come home from a date. Watching international negotiations over nuclear weapons. Reading reports about searches for plane debris.

I worry about medication use. Overuse of antibiotics has gotten a lot of publicity, and I think most people paying the least bit of attention understand that they shouldn't take antibiotics without a positive diagnosis of a bacterial infection (not viral! antibiotics don't help with viral infections) and then, if they do end up on antibiotics, they must be very faithful about taking every dose exactly on time so that there's less of a chance of bugaboos surviving through weak or incomplete dosage regimens. Those survivor bugs have a chance of becoming an antibiotic-resistant strain, and those are very, very bad news.

But that's not what I worry about the most. What I worry about the most is the entire pharmaceutical mentality, most especially in the United States. I think it's linked to the litigation-happy society Americans live in . For example: I recently delivered a bookshelf to a woman's car. While she lowered the back seat to make room, she made the comment that the first time she lowered the seat, it just about knocked her out, and that the manufacturer was crazy because 'someone's child could be hurt and then they'll have a lawsuit on their hands.' First of all, I think it's been so long since she's had any kind of conk to the head (if she ever has) that she probably has no idea about what it feels like to actually be 'almost knocked out'. I'm sure it was very unpleasant. She may have even fallen and whacked her elbow and/or knees in the process. It may have even been the fault of the seat. But I strongly feel that the world is not a safe place and not everything in the universe must be turned into a Disneyland version of a functional device to limit the manufacturers' liability claims. Don't take away my sicklebar mower because it might mow a child's feet off. That's on me. My responsibility to make sure my child is under control enough to keep them safe. And if they do run in front of the mower, or release the seat catch and get smooshed (harmlessly, most likely) by the seat and cry, that's called an accident (fueled by the child's inexperience and lack of understanding). That is not the fault of the car manufacturer or the sicklebar mower. Period.

In court, the jury has this whole concept of 'reasonable' to look at in multiple ways. Reasonable doubt. What a reasonable person in a similar situation would do. Where is the reasonable-ness in safety? Putting poison on or into toys is unreasonable. Being forced to create a so-called child-proof latch and/or a super-slow release hinge to spare clumsy or inattentive people a bit of a padded blow to the noggin is not reasonable. I'm sick to death of such things. If people got hurt more often, they'd be less likely to get killed doing something stupid. Think about that. Pain is a great teacher. Without it, we quickly become oblivious, bumbling idiots bouncing from lucky encounter to lucky close call until we blunder in front of a bus and end up under it. And the bus driver is taken to court.

It's the same with medications. So many medications attempt to make people feel normal, happy, and completely well. There seems to be no allowance for the idea that if you're sick, injured, or otherwise damaged, you will be in pain and you won't function as well as someone who isn't sick, injured or otherwise damaged. I'm not saying make people suffer when they don't have to. But this impossible goal, and the extensive medicating that happens in an effort to reach that goal, is expensive and insane.

A lot of people I know are resistant to taking any kind of medication. I think that's a good thing. The body is remarkable and it does a better job of fixing most things than pharmaceuticals could ever hope to do. I don't think it's doctors. This seems to be driven by the patients and their expectations. Not only of what medication can do for them, but what they themselves have to do and/or live with.

The doing is the hardest part. So many people come to the store and park in the handicapped parking space when they can function so much better than Gary, victim of a massive car accident that permanently damaged his short-term memory abilities, and barely gives him the ability to hobble with the use of a cane through the store. He fights for every step. He'll never get any better, but do you know what? He won't get weaker and weaker and weaker as his remaining muscles atrophy because that amazing bastard fights to keep what he has. And it's hard. And it hurts. And it's no fun. And yes, people who haven't been in an accident, or who are old, or who have cancer do not have it as easy as people who are young and in perfect health. I want those handicapped spaces there, especially for those really, really bad days when it's a struggle just to get out of bed, but damnit, they need a can of soup and some bread and they're going to rally and shop. That fighting spirit leaves me in awe. It doesn't have to be exceptional. So many sunsets are breathtaking ... and normal. That's what human life should be like. The miracle of a garden in springtime is created through the battle for space, light, moisture and nutrients by every plant that sprouts there.

I don't know what's going on with a given person. I do my best not to judge those who do whatever they do on a given day, because I don't know them or what they're going through. Yet, over time, patterns emerge. The woman who claims to be in too much pain to pick up something off the bottom shelf at the store, but runs, waving her arms, screaming at someone because they parked in the handicapped spot and they don't look like they need it. Seriously.


What risks, and what pain and suffering can we live with, if we truly understand that it's not the destination, but the journey itself that makes us strong and makes the world a beautiful and wonderful place? What if everyone understood that feeling healthy is a gift, and that feeling awful is normal. That's right, normal. It doesn't always need to be fixed. A lot of times it can't be fixed, and the mitigation is worse than the symptoms not just because a medication makes you feel dull but because you stop fighting and let something else take control. Sometimes, not always but sometimes, illness just has to be battled in our own bodies on our own if we ever have a hope of coming out the other side as free beings. How less screwed up would our society be if people admitted that yes, this sucks, but you're not alone or abnormal in some way? Stop Googling new treatments for your friend's disease and f***ing appreciate the time you have with them and encourage them to keep fighting. Because it's exhausting, and sometimes the best medicine is to vent, or go to the movies, or to have a cheerleader hold your hand to get through the really, really bad stuff. Read the book Gimp sometime. Or The Fault in Our Stars. Fight. Live. Not to be normal. Just, to be all that you can, and to attempt to achieve what you want most to achieve. There are no guarantees, no promises, no happy endings, but that's ....


Monday, January 12, 2015

Goatie Poopie Dog

Today my DH and I spent most of the daylight hours working on the farm. How much did we get done? Oh, about 1 percent. Maybe. Hopefully.

The big project was getting gravel on the main paths that my DH uses to feed the animals every day. He has an unstable knee that won't see surgery until late spring, so traction is crucial or he'll tear what's left of the support system. He turned Brian and Finn, the Great Pyr puppies, loose in the upper pasture so that the goats would be on their best behavior. Then we got a load of gravel and went to work. He loaded up the wheelbarrow and ran it up and down the hill, while I cleared out the accumulated manure and old, slimy, moldy alfalfa that had turned into a disgusting slip-n-slide near the gate where we fed the boys alfalfa on the way to the shed where they got their grain. I slung pitchfork-fuls of this fragrant slop over the fence into a pile, to be delivered to the veggie garden later.

Meanwhile, Chase, the border collie mix, ran along outside the fenceline, following Rory up and down the hill and occasionally making a run at the fence in a lame attempt to scare the goats into running. At some point we stopped paying attention to her until Rory let out an oath of disgust. "Chase, no!!"

I looked over and guess who was playing in the pile of ick? Guess who had rolled in it thoroughly and now was covered in partially dry goat poop, mole hole dirt, and whose fur was stained green from rolling in rotted, piss-soaked alfalfa? Well, I can tell you this. It was not me.

Chase was so gross, so filthy that Rory didn't want to let her trot through the house to the bathroom, so he picked her up at the door and carried her straight to the tub.

Her white fur is now once again white, and her black fur doesn't look suspiciously olive-toned. Clean dog. She got a lot of exercise today, watching us work, so she's curled up in an adorable ball on the sofa. The way she's acting, she worked harder than any of us. And maybe she has.

We've had some beautiful days, with lots of opportunity to work outside. I hope Mother Nature keeps them coming. There's plenty more out there to do. Next time, though, I think I'll stage a second wheelbarrow outside the the fence right next to the goat shed to avoid future, ah, breaks to play.

Sunday, January 04, 2015

Roasty Goodness

This is for all of you who either have a toaster oven you never use, or you just got one for Christmas and you're thinking it's going to take up way more counter space than it's worth.

You are going to cook like a gourmet cook because of this device. Seriously.

Last night, as I was roasting baby peppers as an ingredient for dinner, while simultaneously toasting an old, hardened croissant in a damp paper towel (which came out incredibly tender and even more delicious than when I bought them fresh), I thought: I have arrived in gourmet heaven. And I didn't spend all night in the kitchen cooking, either. It went by fast.

So I decided to share my morning cooking with you. It took a little longer than usual because I was snapping pics the whole time.

First, the roasted peppers. I bought a whole bag of baby peppers because I thought they would make good New Year's Day nibbles, especially with some onion dip. Did I actually cut them up and serve them? Of course not. BTW, I could have as easily used tomatoes, eggplant, mushrooms, or whatever as the roasted yummy. But, I have this huge bag of peppers, so peppers it is.
 I got some olive oil, pepper, sage, sea salt, and I chopped and crushed a clove of fresh garlic. I put them into a cheap plastic sandwich bag with my slices of baby peppers and mushed it all around until the peppers were coated with oil and seasonings. Yum!

Then, I stuck them in my wonderful toaster oven. You can see how mine has a warming chamber above my main oven compartment. They're nice to have, but not strictly necessary. That's where I warmed up my croissant. (Delicious! Wish I had one more left.)

I set the toaster oven to broil, low, and set the timer for ten minutes. I've roasted peppers for as long as fifteen minutes before. It blackens their edges a bit, which actually adds a lot of flavor without making them taste nasty and burnt. But suit yourself.

A word about eggplant. They will soak up an infinite amount of oil. Put as much oil as you care to in the bag, and no more than that.

 Meanwhile, back at the range ....
Here I have my last two eggs in the whole world, because my lazy chickens don't lay in the wintertime. Actually, I could make them using a light, but I think they need the rest after working hard all spring, summer and fall.

I add milk, seasonings, some more of the crushed garlic (which is roasting with the peppers in the toaster oven and making the kitchen smell awesome), a touch of salt, and I use a fork to beat it all together.

 Now comes the weird part for some of you. You can be satisfied with eggs scrambled with roasted peppers, which is admittedly delicious, or you can be daring and pull a slice of your favorite bread (I like eight grain) into small chunks and mix it into the egg.

Heat up the pan with butter. I don't want to hear about your obsession with vegetable oils. These are eggs. They like butter. :) I pour the eggs and bread into the pan when it's hot enough to make pancakes.
 So, what's going on in the toaster oven in the meantime? Roasted goodness, that's what! I just pull out the peppers and admire their delicious, garlic-y goodness. I can't help but set one aside for nom nom nom all by itself. Because I'm like that.
 Look how clean the bottom of the pan is when I stir in the peppers! Cast iron should work basically like a non-stick pan, except without the weird peeling-off bad-for-you coatings and the risk of cutting the pan, causing irreparable harm if you should be so foolish as to use a metal implement. Do you know what happens when I scratch my cast iron pan? I rub oil into it and keep on a going. In a month you'll never even know it was scratched. They're gorgeous. But I digress.

No egg (cooked with butter!) dish is complete without cheese. I throw caution to the wind and finish the cheese inside my cast iron pan because I don't fear no cheese in my pan. It'll come right out. Besides, then the cheese has a chance to do a tiny bit of browning here and there and I love that. Love love love it.

Check it out. I clean the cast iron pan right after I pour out the egg stuff. A little stuck here and there, but you know what? It came out easy. I cleaned the pan under full hot running water in the sink. If you like you can spray on some diluted soap to get rid of any excess grease, but never full strength soap and don't stop the water flow. You can do emergency cleaning by boiling (slightly!) soapy water in your cast iron pan, but it will smell soapy when you heat it up for the next couple of times. It's only worth it if you didn't clean it while it was still hot after cooking (you foolish mortal, you!) and you have really stubborn food remains that are glued in there like cement. Baked dishes that use rice are a little famous for doing this.

Toaster ovens and cast iron pans. Awesome. And if you don't like roasted veggies, fine, be that way. Your toaster oven is still awesome. You never, ever have an excuse not to make garlic bread because you don't want to heat up your oven 'just for bread.' You have the toaster oven now, you lucky dog, you. Plus, there's no better way to reheat leftover french fries or to put the crispiness back in fried chicken that you take home from Popeyes but leave on the counter or in the car just a little too long. Enjoy!