Month: November 2010

Back-seat Baking: Adventures in Chocolate

Remember when I said I didn’t bake?  Well, I’ve decided I’ll watch other people do it, and record the process/results.  I’ll call the series Back-seat Baking, and I thank Sarge for the name suggestion. And so. Sarge brought home a box of cookie mix and a bag of marshmallows yesterday. ‘Do you mind if I put these together?’ ‘Um, no.  Rocky Road!’ I asked if I could take notes on this experiment, and he said to scribble away. ‘OK.  Don’t do anything note-worthy until I go to the bathroom.’  This could be a preface to anything, but that’s another post. I got back from the bathroom, and he’d heated the oven and was meticulously chopping up a ‘silly amount’ of marshmallows.  Actually 7.  Or 4. He put the mix in an actual mixing-bowl, adding a teaspoon of cocoa and a ‘liberally measured’ ounce of softened butter.  He mixed in the marshmallows, with a ‘tiny bit’ of water.  And then some more water.  And some more water.  And honey.  And more water. He mixed and mixed and mixed and flattened four cookie-shaped things on some kitchen-foil.  The kitchen-foil proved to be a bad idea, but they were still tasty. He shoved them into the oven (190° C/ 374° F) and set our kettle-shaped timer for 7 minutes, after which he turned them over. I nabbed some actual cookie-dough and he...

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Life is Good

  I’m sitting here in my pajamas and robe writing this in a notebook as Sarge makes us breakfast.  It is 3.30 and life is good. I’ve been thinking that thought since Thursday.  It’s been going through my head like a mantra.  I’m sitting here on Friday night eating Chinese food and watching The Golden Girls reruns.  And life is good.  We’re trudging through snow tracks on Saturday on the hunt for cake and hot chocolate, and life is good.  We came home last night and finally had those beers and watched Raging Bull, and life is good. After a lazy morning, we got up and talked to my Dad about plans for Hogmanay.  As I thought about the prospect of spending New Year’s Eve on an island in a cottage, with some of my favourite people,  I actually said, ‘life is good.’  As I listened to Sarge and my Dad talking on the phone, life was great. OK, I don’t have a job to go to tomorrow, but that just means I haven’t found the right one to go to yet. I have warm socks on my feet, good books to read, words to write and people to love. Life is good. I hope it’s good for you, too.  Enjoy the rest of your...

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You Look Happy, Were You Drunk?

The American in me wants to have pumpkin pie later on today and cold turkey sandwiches tomorrow. I am the kind of person who believes thanks aren’t just for Thanksgiving.  But in the spirit of the day, I’m going to share what I am thankful for this year. My list every year is quite simple.  It doesn’t take much to make me happy, and I’m appreciative of what I have every day of the year. That being said, these things have made this year extra special to me: My family:  Thank you for providing me with all the love, support and material you can, any way you can. My friends:  Thank you for keeping me in cheesecake, laughs, inside jokes and packing boxes.  I owe you a coffee/beer. Sarge:  Thank you for everything.  Thank you for your love, acceptance, humour and books.  Thank you for putting up with my PMS and letting me sleep diagonally in bed.  Sometimes.  My life before you were in it was a different one that seems a million years ago.  I love you. The Internet/Facebook:  Thank you for keeping me connected to friends and family and letting me pretend I can be in faraway living rooms sharing laughs and zucchini bread in less than five minutes. I sent my mother some recent photos of Sarge and me.  First thing she said was, ‘You look...

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Gaviscon and Goth Nails

Stress gives me heartburn.  Gulp-Gaviscon-and-belch heartburn.  I have decided I shouldn’t eat crisps and dip for dinner or look for a job after 8.00pm. I got another rejection yesterday.  I then asked my PA to polish my nails purple to cheer myself up.  It didn’t work.  Sarge came home for lunch and made me life-sucking -zombie coffee.  That worked.  I still cried, though.  And got unspeakably angry at grammatical errors on national websites.   I flapped around a bit saying, ‘People get PAID to make mistakes.  Who knew?’ Sarge went back to work, giving me a kiss and another coffee. I also got a surprise but very welcome visit from a Glasgow friend.  We went for cake and milkshakes and gossip and the sun had set outside the window by the time we were done.  Before we went back to my flat we decided to buy the offending crisps and dip and call it dinner.  I may have had some wasabi beans for dessert.  Just maybe. After snack-as-dinner time, my friend left and my boyfriend arrived home.  We are working on IMDb’s Top 250.  Sunday was Chinese food and City of God.  Sarge suggested we open some beers and watch Raging Bull.  I should have listened.  Instead of a nice relaxing evening of alcohol and film-violence (which I admit I needed), I went into the office and continued the hunt...

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