Adventures in the Perils of Cookie Cooking…

Cookies are lovely
warm moist delicious velvet
breathe taste devour

There, that’s my Cookie Haiku. I’ve jotted down that poetic nightmare (I think I can here the gasps of horror coming from Japan as I write) to illustrate the point that people don’t usually discuss the perils of cookie making. My hips know the danger all too well, but by the time they realize what’s going on, it’s too late.

This evening after dinner, I decided to bake cookies. Tracy was at my house, so she did the stirring and mixing, I did the sifting and measuring. It’s now well after 10:00pm and getting closer to bedtime…Tracy has gone home, the dishes have been washed and over 1/2 the batter is still left waiting for the oven. You see, the major problem is that I only have a toaster oven. The recipe that comes on the back of the econo-bag of Chipits is not meant to be baked six small cookies at a time. Even after doing our best to decrease the amount of cookie dough that would need to be baked (yum), we didn’t even make a dent. I’m also feeling a little sick from all the sugary buttery batter in my belly. (Say that last bit out loud. It’s fun.) So here I am, quite literally sick and tired, and my hips are just saying “I told you so.”

Adventures in Odd Places to Stick Your Head…

This is a picuture of Catticus’ latest favourite spot. When I’m working (or playing) at the computer, she’ll leap up ontop of the CPU (?), turn her back on me, and stick her head down between the wall and the back of the computer. She’ll stay that way for up to an hour. I can’t tell if she’s looking at something or sleeping. Whenever I try to peek, she turns her head and meows at me. Occasionally, she’ll sit up and lick the pictures of my niece and nephew, then stick her noggin back down the crevice. Do you think I should start looking for a cat psychologist?

Adventures in biking…

Since spring has (sort of) arrived, I’ve been riding my bike to and from classes. It’s nice to be out on the road with the wind in my face. It’s not nice to be wearing sticky lip gloss and winding up with a swarm of little flies stuck to my lips when I get to the bottom of the hill.