Dolly's twelfth entry; or, I promise I'm still alive.

It's been forever since I've updated this thing. I'm sure all of you lovely readers were thinking "Oh, I do hope she's still alive and that she hasn't been eaten by piranhas or mauled by tigers or something equally horrific." Well, readers dear, I have not experienced any of those terrible things, so you can go back to sleeping well at night.

Since I last wrote, I've moved out of the Burrow and into the Nest, for serious this time. I have a bed and everything. Well, mostly. I have a mattress, but that's still better than a cot. I also have my things here, which is lovely, because that means that I can have more than a bag full of clothes, and now I have candles and my 360 and other delightful things within reach. Oh, speaking of my 360, I've been trying to think of a name for it, but I've been coming up short. It really deserves a name; if the one room place that I live gets a name, my pretty gaming wonder should. So, you should help me out and suggest things. I would offer a prize for the person whose suggestion I choose, but I really don't have anything to offer. Perhaps a letter, handwritten by me? I'm sure that's exactly what you want. Or maybe you just give me your address and I'll send you something fantastic, like candle wax or a bit of fabric. :D Promise I'm not a creeper.

Erin and I have pretty much become nocturnal. The Duchess (that's Erin) didn't wake until nearly seven this evening, though I myself wasn't awake until about three. . .and then I went back to sleep until around five. We didn't go to bed until after seven this morning, so I suppose that's reasonable on my part, though not so much on hers.

We're a little unstable at times, but it's entertaining. When we haven't slept in a few hours and it's nearly sunrise, we get a bit delirious. For instance, last night the Duchess got on her kitchen broom and flew about the room, pretending to be Harry Potter when his broom went rogue, ending with a crash landing on her bed. As she was flying, she was shouting "My parents are dead! My parents are dead! I'm Harry Potter, I'm fantastic! Everybody loves me!" in a British accent. Theatrics aside, we often fling spells across the room. Thanks to be bad influence of the Duchess, I've begun using Unforgivables; I can't count the number of times I've Avada Kedavra'd her, not to mention the times she's done so to me. I'm better at being Crucio'd than she is.

I had to run across the street to the convenience store earlier, and I was a bit afraid. One time, the Duchess went alone and apparently the creeper behind the counter asked about me, asked if I was taken, and said "She's niiiiice" in, according to the Duchess' rendition, a voice that sounded a lot like Borat. Thus, I'm afraid (and with good reason, I'd say) to go to the store alone. However, her grace was in the bath, and I was growing a rather large headache from lack of caffeine, so I ventured out alone. Well, not completely alone; I called Mr. C and talked to him there and back, so I wouldn't feel alone. However, my precautions turned out to be in vain; Creeper wasn't there, the older guy was, and he's not nearly as off-putting. I returned triumphant, soda and Haribo Raspberries in hand. Her grace was pleased.

We've been watching The Tudors. Well, her grace has been watching The Tudors, and I've been listening to it, since she can't stand to do one thing like watch a TV show, even when it's as gorgeous as The Tudors. She has to be manipulating some photo or making some layout, and so I feel like I'm listening to a radio show. Oh, if only I had Netflix.

Last night we attempted to make ice cream. She got the idea online, and we got excited. "We have milk, sugar and vanilla! We can DO THIS." However, her grace being the genius that she is, realised that we couldn't; we had no ice. No ice cube trays. No ice maker. No ice cream. However, I'm no less of a genius than she; wrapping my spider-web cape about me, I swished into the kitchen and took the cupcake trays from the cabinet, filled them with water, and stuck them in the freezer.

After a wait full of The Tudors and internet, the water was mostly ice and we poured the milk and whatnot into the bag, and then put that bag into another bag full of ice, and shook. And shook. And shooook. For an hour. After an hour the milk was just frothy milk, not ice cream. We gave up, poured the sweetened milk into glasses, and drank it.
So. DELICIOUS.
I recommend unice-creamed ice-cream to everyone.