I find that I am having lots of ripe bananas around the house these days…well, not actually around the house, more like on the kitchen counter in the designated banana spot. Do you have a designated banana spot? My designated banana spot is on the counter right next to the stove in front of the radio. If they were anywhere else I think I’d forget we had them. Anyway, so I have these ripe bananas for the small child in my life and since his little stomach is the size of a kiwi, he isn’t yet able to put them all away before they go bad, so what’s a new mom to do? Bake them with chocolate and bourbon. Naturally.
I made donuts because I decided that I wanted a donut. I’m not saying it was a healthy decision. In fact, the word donut is derived from an Ancient Greek term that we are all familiar with “do not”. (Not really, I just made that up) But the Good Lord gave us fried dough for a reason. Because it is good. Really good. ” On the 8th day, after all that resting, God made donuts.” I’ll stop now.
There are a few different parts to this project. If this is your first time making a donut, I’d suggest this cake donut recipe. A yeasted dough takes a little extra time/ steps.
My brain is taken over by Baby. Baby books, baby nursery themes, tiny baby shoes, tiny baby bathrobes, baby bathroom breaks, baby stuff research, baby belly kicks, visualizing swaddling baby. But in reality, I really haven’t done much to actually prepare for baby. This baby has no crib, no stroller, no blanket, no car seat, & the worst: no nursery theme! What’s a girl with a big belly to do with the 12.3% of the space left in her brain?
Make cupcakes, of course…
Ok, don’t look at me like that.
Stop it. I know! I’ve been on….leave? Or let’s call it pre-leave.
Well, you try growing a baby in your belly while being repulsed by every smell (every single smell) you encounter and bake and act like you like it. Try it. Dare you. PS. dont’ mess with me, I have hormones.
Here, I made this. So….
And its’ Gooooouuuuud. It’s brought to you by Christmas and Ms. Martha Stewart. And the letter B.
Christmas because I got a butt/boat load of baking supplies and a smantzy camera for Christmas and Ms. Stewart because she thought up this swirly bob. And I’ll get to ‘B’, just hold on a minute.
Say one mean thing about chocolate. Do it! DO IT! Or better yet, try to say something mean while you are eating chocolate. Chocolate Pie. THIS Chocolate Pie.
You can’t, can you? It’s like trying to frown when you skip down the hall. Or trying to be mad while you whistle. It’s impossible. It’s Ok though. It’s the universe. Nothing rhymes with orange and you can’t say anything bad about chocolate.
I typically stand firm on the stance of less is more. I have 1 dog. I have 1 husband. I have 1 car. I have 1 job. I have 1 wardrobe. I have 1 computer. I have 2 keys on my key chain. I have 2 sets of sheets. I have 2 favorite TV shows. It’s pretty simple. I like it.
When it comes to a baked good. Bring. It. On. More is More. I can get behind that. You can get behind that.
Banana. oh my!
Oatmeal. huh? don’t stop!
Chocolate Chip. really? i was kind of kidding.
Bread. are you done now?
I’m going to change my major. I never did in college, so now’s my big chance. I’m going to major in Vacation.
Yes, waiter, I would like another pina colada.
It’s going to be 85 degrees again?
Sure, I’ll take a wedge of that stinky cheese with this fancy wine.
Can you please pass the butter again for my third roll before my dinner is served?
Of course I’ll dance the macarena at midnight… right after I eat second dessert.
Lovely. Yes, set up my umbrella and beach chair right here.
Oh, room service called? My eggs and bacon and toast and juice and coffee will be here in 10? Perfect, wake me up in 9.
If I could major in Vacation, I would study all night, I’d even go to those office hours, Ace the tests, and no doubt graduate with honors. If I could find the right program, I’d pursue a graduate degree and move into a teaching position where I could just focus on my research. Vacation research. I’ve found my passion.
And then there is reality. Turkey Pot Pie is reality. Trying to recover from Vacation is reality. This involves vegetables and whole wheat.
Scary, huh? What about this?
Yeah, that’s scary. That’s what my life felt like last week. Does your life feel like this sometimes? Disorganized. Messy. Upside down. Uneven.
I have no shame in sharing that I need cheese in my life. Not only is cheese #6 on my “Can’t Live Without” list, it’s what gets me excited about my salad at lunch, it helps me not gag on my scrambled egg whites at breakfast, and it pretty much turns anything else into a party.
My car insurance agent called me yesterday (completely interrupting my off pitch interpretation of Adele as I was putting away groceries)…he told me that I had lost my wallet. “Oh reeeaaalllllly?!” I thought sarcastically in my head, “Then why do I have my purse riiighhht her.., oh, well, where did I put my purse?”
“You left it at the grocery store.” He stated kindly. ”Just ask for Bob, he has it there in the office.” Sigh. ”Thanks, George…and nice to meet you.” And I will totally NOT be switching to Geico now.