Lazy day

Blog

Ah, a lazy Sunday. The bestest.

Maybe there's a lesson

Blog

"I purchased a few more spoons, because you said I could."

"What? No, I didn't, I said it was up to you."

"Which is the same as saying purchase more spoons."

*blink*

"Okay."

"Besides, I needed a few more spoons since the dogs keep chewing on the spoons."

"Maybe there's a lesson there."

"What? Stop putting wooden spoons with cake batter at the doggie nose level?"

Crystal needs a blog

Blog

She needs to call it, "The Trying Times of Matrimony," not because being married to Nick is difficult. Being Nick, on the other hand, is. This month's adventure has solo skiing, unconsciousness, ski patrols, amnesia, hospitals, phone calls and a mad dash up to a mountain to pick up said husband.

Fortunately, no hypothermia in that story. You should talk to her about it. It's quite the story.

This adventure, along with last year's solo hiking adventure, would make me a paranoid wreck.

Oh, wait, Kris' adventures already do that.

Pure evil

Blog

Megan showed me the site Smitten Kitchen a month or so ago. I added it to my semi-daily rotation (as in, read when I'm done reading the daily list and have some extra time), which means I read it every 2-3 days.

The recipes as of late haven't been particularly inspiring. Fennel infused? Add anise? No thanks. That's just as bad as sticking my head in a vat of licorice, which always results in copious puking.

No thanks.

One of the site's highlight images, however, is for some world peace cookies. They're chocolate, so, of course, I clicked on the picture. They didn't seem too complicated, I was up for adventure today, so I decided to try them.

The part where the recipe says "drape a kitchen towel over the stand mixer to protect yourself and your kitchen from flying?" Yeah, she meant that part. I didn't use a towel, thinking the plastic cover that came with my mixer would suffice. It didn't. Think I'm pasty white now? Yeah, well, the cocoa in the flying flour gave me a nice tan when it landed.

When I "turned the dough out" onto a board, I have to admit, it didn't look too appetizing:

But, well, there was chocolate in there! Bittersweet, no less! And, despite the fact I can't really stand any chocolate darker than milk chocolate, I was determined to get my antioxidants in for the day.

Yes, I eat chocolate for the health benefits. And that's the ONLY reason why. Reallly. *snicker*

So, I rolled the dough up into a couple 1 ½" logs and stuck them in the refridgerator to chill for three hours.

Three hours.

Okay, what was I thinking to try a recipe where I have to wait three hours to taste something chocolate? Was I thinking? Probably not.

About an hour later, Kris and Andy came home from some movie (matinees are before noon now, not 5:00 - what a rip). Kris went into the kitchen, opened up the fridge to get his coffee beans and cried out, "What is this in the fridge?"

I hollered back, "I took a dump and wrapped them up for you to see! Don't you love me now?"

Andy was humoured.

Yeah, so, those three hours? Didn't make it. I lasted two hours.

Fourteen slices, 12 minutes of baking and 10 minutes of cooling later (what am I saying? make that 3 minutes of cooling later), I had my cookies to try.

I'd like to say, for the record, that Deb is a genius.

Also for the record, if you want to taste a piece of chocolate heaven, head over sooner than later: they'll be gone by the end of Sunday.

Cards

Blog

Every year around this time, the Christmas cards come in. Even though the cards bring a tinge of guilt for me, as I rarely send any cards out any more, but feel, as a Responsible Adult™ I should be, I enjoy the cards I receive. They range from the hey-haven't-talked-to-you-in-years cards, to the thanks-for-being-my-friend cards, to the family cards, and everything in between. I receive a couple newsletters in these cards, too. Kris and I sent out a newsletter four Christmases ago, when all sorts of major changes in our lives happened (engagement, dogs, etc.), but haven't actually sent out cards since.

Maybe we shot our wad with that one....

[Side note: I actually looked up the origins and current cultural definitions of that phrase to make sure I didn't just write something offensive. I was pretty sure I hadn't, but, just in case. Turns out that, even though "shooting one's wad" can have a sexual reference, it actually means to spend all one's money (wad). The origins come from the Civil War era guns whose bullets were actually gun powder and musket balls wrapped together into a "wad," the term for the ball, powder, paper package. "Wad" meaning money happened sometime in the 1920's. Phew!]

Each year, amongst all the cards I receive, there's one in particular I look forward to reading: Charles and Noelle Cook's.

I met Charles at Freshman Camp. Caltech takes all Freshman off-campus for three days for an introduction to each other, to school, to what they're about to experience, to what they just got themselves in for, to some upperclassmen and to some faculty. I was horrible at meeting people then, well before I could just walk up to someone, stick my hand out and say hello. I was standing with my back to the camp ground, facing a building, trying really hard to learn to juggle the three balls I had with me, when Charles walked up to me and did exactly what I couldn't do: he said hello.

Charles' and Noelle's wedding inspired our wedding: an outdoor campground with everyone they love for a few days. Whoo, were there stories with that wedding, starting with my near inability to actually get there from the airport. Hello, crazy weekend.

Their newsletter always manages a very nice balance of what's happened in their lives for the last year, without going into the uncomfortable details that spoil some newsletters. I always read the newsletter with Noelle's voice, though I'm not 100% sure it's all her writing.

I think she hates me. When they lived in the area, I went over to their house to cook dinner for the group of us. When she asked if she could help, my answer was something to the effect of you can help me by leaving the kitchen. I didn't really say that, and I certainly didn't mean that, but it was a few years later before I realized what I had done. I had kicked a woman out of her own kitchen by my lack of tact. Yay me. Not.

But, I receive a card each year. This year, they moved to Europe. I'm both surprised ("OMG, they moved to EUROPE?"), as well as, well, a bit envious ("OMG, they moved to EUROPE!"), but they do these kinds of adventures. Kris mentioned they're the perfect family (husband, wife, two kids, dog, cat), mostly joking, though he's quite right. They're a family with parents who have their heads screwed on straight, life going in the right direction.

Of course, I'm projecting. I know it. Must be the newsletter's influence. It's that good.

Pages