Bursting at the seams

The Boy, having taken an entire day off work in order to go to a one hour job interview, decided to take me out to lunch.

So yay! I don't leave the house much lately because I'm working on achieving my Hermit patch from the local Scout troop. Poverty and unemployment make it easy to sit firmly rooted in my chair in front of this computer, so I might be cheating but I'm not telling anyone and don't you either.

On the way to Jack Astor's, I conveniently parked in the lot of the B@st B@y next door. When I got the questioning eyebrow action aimed at me, I innocently suggested we see if they had the fourth season of C.S.I. on dvd. He agreed and we went in search of what has been a terribly elusive item in this town for a couple of weeks now. We wound up having the nice lady go back to the truck in the loading bay so we could get our fix of Griss, Nicky, Greggo and the whole team.

Then it was on to the eatin', where I pounded back a hamburger the size of my HEED and half a personal apple pie. Except it wasn't personal, it was a group pie. You could have called it a tub o' pie or a Mighty Bowl of Pastry and Apples but whatever you wind up calling it, just make sure there are at least two of you at the table if you order it. I'm uncomfortably full.

I need tea.

Forcing the Issue

I'm working on another entry for the journal to explain what happened last weekend, but I know I need to get back into a writing schedule of some kind if only for my sanity. I also thank heavens for this blog, because I know this is my Oasis for Stream of Consciousness Writing where I don't have to worry about content.

Also, the fact that you continue to read here? Blows my mind more than you know.

I've been fiddling with the hundred thousand recipes online for Lemon Cranberry muffins, and I can't find one that works to my satisfaction. They're either too dry or too mealy (some of them have cornmeal in them) or are so goopy that by the time the inside firms up the tops look like I've come at them with my handy-dandy creme brulee torch. I've wasted a ton of lemons and cranberries and I'm pissed off. If anyone out there has a recipe for the sort of muffin I get at Sbux (kind of cakey, you know?), please, for the love of all that's holy, drop me a line!

While I'm in asking mode, if anyone has the Ina Garten cookbook with the coconut cupcake recipe, I'd be eternally grateful. (The Indonesian Ginger Chicken would be gravy...)

The wind chill warning for my area was dropped a day or so ago, but when I got up this morning it felt like -35C. Seriously, the dogs got to the back door, turned as one organism and gave me a look like, "Dude, I'll pee in the mud room, it's fine." The Jeep is frozen solid and the driver's door won't open, causing me to forage in the fridge for lunch. No take-out for me today, sadly. Even though it's really the last thing I need; yesterday I got copies of the Christmas Day pics from Mom. I have to take steps, people. The more steps the better because I wanted to burn each and every one of those pictures. Mom and The Boy tell me I'm too hard on myself, especially since I was pregnant at the time. Phooey, if I was a tank at eight weeks in, I shudder to think what sort of zeppelin I would have been by the end of August!

So tonight, we're going to move all the assorted clutter away from the elliptical machine in the basement and I'm going to make a commitment to better health. Go, me!