Feb. 22: Almond Horns

Almond Horns, pg. 104, would be great Christmas cookies. It was also soothing to roll them out--although I think they look more like horseshoes than horns.

I'm going to have to bake more cookies on Thursday for book club on Friday. This month's meeting is at my house, and of course cookies will be expected. Not sure if I'll try something new or bake a tried-and-true. I told the girls I'd bake erotic cookies since our selection this month is just this side of porn. Hmm. Maybe the horns...

I can tell already that this week is going to be a ball-buster (pardon the pun). Work today was not good. I don't understand why we can't just all follow the AP styleguide and be happy about it. So now we make copy decisions based own how capital letters look on a page and not on solid copywriting principles? For crying out loud. I've been a writer and editor for 18 years, and that's a first for me.

But that's all I'll say about that. I've read those articles warning people against being too candid about their jobs in their blogs. So, in case the Big Blue Brother is reading this, "Yay Regence! Love ya man!"

On a more cheerful topic, how about that Seattle weather? Gotta love false spring. I wonder how many idiots went out and planted stuff this weekend. Got news for all you optimists and recent transplants: FROST 'TIL APRIL!

It was a good weekend, though, for yard clean-up. Found some snowdrops blooming. They're sweet little flowers. And with all the sunshine, James went outside and got the dirt bikes running. He even gave Ian his first ride. We learned long ago that Ian is our daredevil son. But the dirt bike experience just deepened our dread. He loved the ride--whooping, hollering and waving at the neighbors all around the block. But he liked it a little too much for our comfort.

We also got some good news on the bankruptcy front: We will NOT owe the IRS $250,000. I consider that fabulous news, considering I ran out of options for getting my hands on $250,000. Stocks? Nope. Not there. House? Oh, please. Life insurance? Hmmmm.

Anyway, not only do we not owe income tax on money we may lose and never see again, we don't owe capital gains on it, either. Yay America!

Speaking of America, I'm addicted to Facebook. Is the whole country there, or what? I love the whole Facebook etiquette thing. Is someone "Facebook-worthy?" What do you do about "friends" who e-ignore you? (You know who you are.) Will someone know if you "defriend" them? And how about that List of 25 Random Things? Love those.

I keep hearing predictions about the end of Facebook because it's not making anyone any money. More news for you: THE WHOLE FREAKING COUNTRY IS NOT MAKING ANY MONEY! We can at least be in touch while we go down the tubes together.

I shouldn't be such a pessimist. There are many good things in the world, right? Like my son, who brought home a certificate for fifth-grade academic achievement and perseverance. We're very proud of him (if somewhat a little surprised). I mean, the kid lives for The Simpsons and can't remember to brush his teeth. I like to think that he saves his brainpower for more important aspects of his life. Like school, for example.

And James didn't re-tear his tendons. So that's good news. And he's going to Palm Springs for two weeks in April. Good news for him. (I have to admit, I'm looking forward to controlling the T.V. for awhile. I should have about four months of Desperate Housewives saved up by then.)

And I have a fabulous new office to work in at home. Granted, the wireless keyboard SUCKS.(Feel that, wireless keyboard? You suck.) But the desk is real pretty.

Finally, I don't really hate my job. In all truth, Regence has been very good to me over the years. I mean that in all sincerity. I love being a writer/editor. And I'm thankful for Regence and my job every day. But capitalizing "sales account executive"? Come on. Even the pope doesn't deserve a capital "P" for Christ's sake! What makes insurance salespeople think they're better than the pope? Oh, wait. That's a dumb question.

Yay Regence! Love ya man!

Peanut Butter Cookies Part III

I'm not sure what's driving this project. Do I bake cookies so I can write in the blog, or do I blog just so I can bake the cookies?

Whichever, I've been missing my cookies and my blog! It's been a couple of busy weeks since I baked or wrote. There's a lot to catch up on. In order to do that, I baked James' favorites for Valentine's Day. Now for the blog.

What I thought was a Superbowl headache on Feb. 1 turned out to be a sinus headache. I ended up sick all that week. No cookies for me! To my family's disappointment, I saved my strength for travel on Feb. 7.

That's when Denise, Renee and Linda and I headed south for five fabulous days in Palm Desert. It was a much-needed Mommy Timeout. The weather was memorable: COLD! And our furnace was out, so the comfort level could have been better. The sun did show up, though, so we finally got to hang by the pool. Other memorable moments:

1. Renee finding a huge, dead date roach under Denise's bed.

2. Renee finding a huge rocket-shaped pool toy in her own bed. No idea how that got there.

3. Our rain-soaked trip to Cabazon, followed by a syrup-soaked trip to IHOP.

4. The evening we enjoyed edamame, lemon drops and ice cream for dinner while watching What Not to Wear, The Bachelor and John and Kate Plus Eight.

5. Our red rental car turning black in the Blockbusters parking lot. Again!

6. Denise telling some guy in the Albertson's parking lot that we weren't really hookers (even though we were loitering near his car for no apparent reason).

7. Linda spilling her purse in the car. Twice.

8. Breakfast on the patio in the sunshine. Ahh!

9. My dad showing up for one day to shop for houses. (He lit the furnace pilot light, but it went out again.)

10. The football-sized lemon we "found" on a walk.

Despite the rain and my lingering cough, I had a great time.

Once we got home, real life smashed right into my face. There were four pounds of dirt on my floors, the kids had colds, my work email had piled up. And so on.

But home is fun, too, if not as lazy and sunny. Cindy and I met for lunch and got makeovers at Nordstrom. She was gorgeous and I didn't look like my dad in drag! Jamey, Mary and Ellis came down for lunch, a playdate and a dresser. And we got our new office furniture. That should have been a simple thing. You unplug the computer, move the old desk out and the new desk in. Then you plug the computer back in, right?

Not in this house. We now have a new, bigger monitor, a new printer (had to have one that fits in the new desk), a new wireless keyboard, wireless mouse, router (we obviously need Internet connection in the kitchen), and some gadget that will make our TVs talk to our computers or something. Hell if I know. What I do know is that James has been to Fry's at least four times in the past 36 hours and my office is a disaster.

I worked in the yard yesterday! Bulbs are coming up and I see perennials coming back. I think my jasmine is toast, and I really hope my Tom Thumb fuschia makes it. But it was great to get out there and dig in the dirt. I raked, trimmed, pruned, scraped up moss and tidied things up. I'm ready for spring.

Today's Presidents' Day, and Christian's on mid-winter break all week. So it looks like I'll be home with the boys for the next seven days. My challenge will be to work without having Ian watching TV constantly. I know what Christian will want to do: In the midst of all those electronics, an Xbox game found its way into James' cart. I'm so outnumbered.

I guess I could keep them busy by baking some more cookies. Ian informed me the other night that he's a "great helper chef," and they both love cookies. Turns out we all love cookies in this house--just for different reasons.

Feb. 1: Cassis Crisps

In response to National Man Day, I made what I thought would be a totally girly cookie—Cassis Crisps, pg. 253. After all, the antithesis of beer is fruit-flavored liqueur, right? And since I happened to have a bottle of crème de cassis lying around, I decided to give them a try.

Sorry to say, I didn’t care for them much. Maybe mine weren’t crispy enough. I had a hard time rolling out the dough. So they’re kind of cakey. And the crème de cassis has an odd taste. It reminded me why I have a bottle of black currant liqueur in the first place: Two years ago I used it to make cranberry sauce for Thanksgiving. I didn’t like it much, either. I should have taken that into consideration when I chose the Crisps recipe.

Shortly after I put the dough in the fridge to chill, James came into the kitchen looking for his usual sample. But I had already washed the bowl (I was trying to remove temptation out of respect for the diet). Never underestimate James. He just pulled a slab of chilling dough out the fridge, unwrapped it and took a little bite.

I watched him silently thinking to myself, “Well, that’s rude.” Then he screwed up his face and said, “Blech. Tastes like alcohol!” It was only then that it occurred to me, “Oh, shit. That’s right! He’s a recovering alcoholic! I wonder how this is going to turn out.”

I’m glad to say that the Cassis Crisps dough did not result in a relapse on Superbowl Sunday.

I realized earlier in the day that the Superbowl really is just a big Celebration of Being a Man. All across the country, men sit around eating meat, whooping and hollering, talking trash and probably thinking about how big their ding-dings are. Frankly, maintaining some degree of civility on Superbowl Sunday is a lost cause at my house since I’m surrounded by males in various stages of development.

So in self-defense, I invited my girlfriend Cindy down to spend the day with me. We were an Island of Chickness in a Superbowl Sea, from kick-off to post-game show. We had lunch and talked cooking, cookbooks, family, writing, cosmetics (I swear I’m not making this up) and kids. We did watch the half-time show, but quickly retreated back to the relative quiet of the dining room. James has a big-screen TV and surround sound. Three days later, my head still hurts from football noise.

It was wonderful to spend time with Cindy. We’ve known each other since we were four years old. We lived next door to each other and started kindergarten together. Her parents and my mom are still neighbors; I can’t remember a time when she wasn’t my friend. What a treat to have her all to myself for an afternoon!

I have to say, my kids behaved beautifully up until she arrived. They played Legos together for hours. I kept pinching myself to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. I thought, “no way this will last.”

And it didn’t. They’d saved up all the fighting and cussedness for her visit. Lovely. Fortunately, Cindy has two of her own, so I have no illusions about how my kids should behave around her. I’m just glad no one said a swear word. At least none that I heard.

The funniest part about Cindy’s visit was that she gave James an opportunity to show what a he-man he is on Superbowl Sunday: He got to rescue her when she ran out of gas on the way to our house. In her husband’s electric car. Which we, of course, thought was hilarious.

Fittingly, I need to close this blog entry today with a request from Man #2 in my house, 10-year-old Christian. He's so excited about his new bedroom furniture that he asked me to write about it.

It does look really nice (thanks to James' superb painting and my fabulous picks of furniture and décor). Christian, however, gets credit for choosing the wall color and not objecting to my good taste in furnishings.

Granted, he's not moved in yet, so it will never be this clean again. But for now it looks like a grown-up's bedroom, which makes me kind of sad. James said he wanted decent stuff so Christian can take it with him some day, when he's a man headed off to college. That's only eight years away! I guess I should make a point of enjoying those little men in my house while they're still here.