Entry the thirty-sixth: Fifteen things

I'm in the middle of one of those self-involved but (hopefully) amusing "Hundred things about me" lists, but I'm just going to post the facts in groups of fifteen. I'm hoping this will mollify me when I can't post pictures of presents I'm working on. Plus, it draws this out. That's good, right? Yeah, I don't know either.

1. I wish I could see some of my very best friends more often. I hate that I live so far away from them.
2. I love gingerbread.
3. And really good strawberries.
4. I get annoyed about trivial things way too easily.
5. Like people who talk during movies. I am so easily annoyed that I don’t go to the movies very often anymore.
6. One of my earliest memories is of being underwater and seeing the surface above but not being able to get to it until my dad pulled me out.
7. That was in Loch Ness but, as far as I know, no monsters were involved.
8. I am always surprised when lake water is fresh, not salty.
9. I am impatient.
10. I am a Taurus but I don’t believe in astrology.
11. I love John Waters’ essays but his movies are usually too rude for me.
12. I get tense when people on TV or in movies are in embarrassing situations.
13. I don’t mind traveling on my own.
14. Sometimes I prefer it.
15. I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.

Plus, for no reason, here is a picture of my husband taking a picture of our cats.

Entry the thirty-second: It starts...

What, you ask? What is starting, exactly?

Holiday baking, that's what.



Except very little actual baking occurred tonight. I used my wonderful KitchenAid mixer (one of the best birthday presents ever!) to put together um... hold on, I'm counting on my fingers... SEVEN batches of gingerbread cookie dough. My husband thought I was kidding when I told him to buy 5 jars of molasses -- Ha!

My husband set the cat bed up in the kitchen doorway and first Mirabelle then Sylvie obligingly smooshed into it. I feel sure they were cheering me on.



Next week I will descend upon my parents' (larger, nicer, more modern) kitchen like a gingerbread dervish and roll out and bake all this dough. My parents don't mind this because
1. It's a nice way to hang out
2. Their house ends up smelling like gingerbread
3. They get to eat all the mistakes and extra bits.

My mother really likes it when I appropriate their lovely double oven for my cookie madness. The ensuing cheer always knocks the "They-put-Christmas-stuff-up-in-the-stores-in-August-and-that's-just-wrong,-wrong,-WRONG" grouchy mood out of my dad. Once he's experienced the healing power of baking cookies, he brings the boxes of Christmas decorations in from the garage. My mom can never make any headway in this department before baking day.



Happy December!