Impertinence...

Yesterday I went grocery shopping. Ugh. I don't mind doing it...that much. Its a pain in general. What didn't help was the fact that I'm clueless when it comes to male attention. It never occurs to me men would be interested in me physically. I'm just not wired that way. You wouldn't think there would be a correlation between that and grocery shopping, and yet...

So I'm walking through Target, getting milk, bottles of water, etc etc. And there are three men who are whistling and catcalling. The first time it happens I think, man, sucks to be that girl they've taken notice of. I don't look around to see the poor lass they're ogling over. I do however, go back to my groceries, lah-dee-dah. Then I hear them again while I'm getting my lean cuisines. Man, those guys need to knock it off. After the third time, when they "happen" to appear in the baking aisle I'm in, I realize it was me they'd been catcalling. One of them walks by me while the other two stand at the far end of the aisle and watch. As he walks by he looks me up and down. I'm praying as I stand there, waiting for him to finish looking and be on his way. He does, thank you Lord, and I go back to picking up baking stuff.

Honestly? It was a noble fight to keep my temper in check from flaring last night. I think its ridiculous to catcall a lady. Men who think that is appealing are flat out mistaken. You can bet your bottom dollar there is NO WAY I will be telling my little ones, when they ask how their father and I met, well, darling, I was getting icing and he whistled at me like a dog and I just fell in love on the spot. And how it made my heart beat faster when he got a creepy glint in his eye as he looked me over from top to toe. Um, heck no. It made my heart beat faster alright, but not in a good way. More of a if you come one inch closer to me, you'll find out my family's irish.

There is a silver lining to this story. Minus the irritating buzz of being followed around the store. A lot of the baking stuff was on sale so I totally stocked up! It was fantastic! I have an idea for my next baking project! I have Lady Tiger Football camp tomorrow, but maybe I can work on it saturday. I'm so excited!

Not a Texan Dairy Queen

Tonight Courtney and I went to Dairy Queen. The only one I know of is out in Central. Which is about a 40 minute trip from our house. I was itchin' for a blizzard...

In my native homeland, the Dairy Queen sign is called the "Texas Stop Sign". There are quite a few in Texas. Even if we don't have a stop light in a small town, chances are there's a dairy queen...

So we go out there. Promptly get lost on a road called Sullivan, then call one of our neighbors whose from Central and he tells us to turn back around and hang a left at Hooper. So we head down hooper and I tell Court, I wonder if its by that sonic? Sure enough I see a teeny tiny sign that could moderately pass for a dq sign.

Wait. Um, its a gas station. What the mess? I've just driven over a half hour to go to a gas station?! The dairy queen is attached to a mobil gas station. So we go through the drivethrough. And wait 18 minutes at the window for our food. That's not a typo. One salad, one blizzard, one chicken finger basket (WITH GRAVY), and a turtle waffle cup sundae. 18 MINUTE WAIT. I was waiting for Ashton Kutcher to show up and tell us we were being punked.

We're sitting there in the drivethrough and I'm looking around at the comings and goings of the people of Central. After about ten minutes I look at Court and say, I'm confused. She says Why? Um, well, I thought Central was, uh, well. What? Well I just thought that Central was a bit more metropolitan, and from the small experience of the population I've seen sitting in this drivethrough, that doesn't seem to be the case. Luckily, Courtney explains Central to me.

By the time she's done, the girl opens the window to ask, why are you still here? We're waiting on our food. Oh, well, we couldn't reach the salads. She comes back a few minutes later and hands me Courtney's salad. Then disappears. Comes back again, what else do you need? Um, my chicken finger basket? Oh. Here.

By far the worst DQ experience ever.

PB Cookie Sandwiches...

This morning I woke up with an idea for a cookie. I tend to wake up with random ideas in the morning. Sometimes I follow through with them, sometimes I don't.

Today it was a peanut butter cookie sandwich. Hmm. I knew I had some peanut butter cookie mix, but the only icing I had was cream cheese icing. Wasn't sure how well those flavors would work together. The older I get the more I like flavors that are kind of light and sweet. Don't get me wrong I'll eat a piece of pecan pie any day of the week, but I'm not brave enough to try pie yet. I'm sticking to basic baked goods right now.

So the cookies are a peanut butter bag mix and some can vanilla frosting. But I tweaked it. (I really just can't leave stuff well enough alone.) I made the cookies 1/2 the recommended size, then took a mixer to the icing to make it more soft and fluffy. I really enjoyed making them today.

I like baking. Weird.

P.S. Courtney ate all the extra ones I had left. She asked me to make them for her wedding.

Bake me a bug...

Today we had a garden party at our house for the kids in our kids' community group. I was sweating bullets. And that was hours before the kids even got here. I baked cupcakes this morning. I had a new bug pan I wanted to use...

My first batch was ok. I poured too much batter in the wells of the pan, so they kind of overflowed a smidge. By the third batch I was a pro at those bugs. Ok, not a pro. I don't think I'll ever be a pro in the kitchen, but I do give it my best effort.

Here is a picture of the ones I made for the kids. Yellow cake (my favorite) and a whipped strawberry icing with sprinkles. I like whipped cream icing, but I wasn't a fan of the strawberry flavoring. But hey, the kids didn't complain...

Of course as with my life, there was something comical about getting to the very unexpected finish line. The first hiccup was mixing. I don't have a mixer because I'm a budding baker. So I use a little elbow grease to mix everything. I mixed all the wet ingredients together. I was trying to get it to an even consistency. There was a yolk that was avoiding my most avid attempts to destroy it. A quick flip of my wrist and about half the bowl ended up on me, the countertop and the floor. Sigh. Ok, start over.

I get farther along this time. The batter is mixed as well as I'm going to be able to do it by hand. Its time to oil and flour the pan so the little bugs come out of the pan easily. The oil I pour on a paper towel and wipe into the pan. The flour I would get pinches of and blend them into the pan. Well. Too much flour. Ok, how do I get flour out of the wells? I know. Air. Air will get the flour out instead of me trying to wipe it out and mixing it even more into the oil I've just wiped on the pan. First attempt was too soft. Second blow was a bit too hard. Considering after my puff, a huge cloud of flour ends up all in my hair, the sink, and apparently in my lungs cuz I start coughing flour.

God and I laughed a lot this morning. It was just me in the house so I talked with Him while I baked. And yes, I totally prayed that those bug cakes wouldn't be a disaster. The frosting was a little tough. And the sprinkles are like food glitter. Grr. They went everywhere. But my favorite kinds were the ones where I had made a vanilla glaze for. I ended up using a paintbrush (brand new) to brush on the glaze...

"I Kiss Better Than I Cook..."

Its potluck time again at my church. Which is totally cool. There's something that kind of makes you feel like family when you're eating together... I think food does that to you. I don't know many people who hate eating. Heck, it relaxes me just sitting over a steaming cup of coffee... Back to my story...

The unfortunate part of this is that my name is Miller. M. They break all of us up into what we will bring by our last names. There are three categories. Main dish, side dish, and dessert. The basics of life right there. This time around, I'm a main dish. Gulp. MAIN DISH.

A friend of mine asked me what I was going to bring. I asked him if pizza rolls counted as a main dish. He then tentatively offered his wifes' cooking skills for my benefit. So sunday morning, I'll be at their house bright and early to learn how to cook a roast. I'm excited about it, but if I mess it up, I'm totally buying a bucket of chicken or something. My failures in the kitchen are the stuff of legends... But I'm blessed enough to have extremely capable women in my life who are willing to help me learn slowly and steadily...

Meanwhile, Court sent me a text message with the following picture... Which made me bust out laughing when I saw it...

I will neither confirm nor deny that statement...

The Pancake Dinner of '06

Tonight was our annual pancake dinner for church. I was standing there with Courtney, Carla and Meg when Jess came up and said for me to come in the kitchen. I looked at her and said, No. I can clean it if that's what you need. Jess says, Nope, get in here. Ok, I'm not sure if you've ever seen the fear of God on someone's face, but it definitely appeared a few times on my face through this experience. Meg pushes me towards the kitchen and I'm thinking I've had a good run at this church, but I'm pretty sure they'll kick me out when I kill someone with my cooking.

I'm put in front of two pans with sausage links on them. Courtney says she's done this before so it'll be fine. Carla comes along to help as well. My heart is pounding and I'm shaking. Alright, here's why I'm terrified. I mess things up all the time in the kitchen. Really. I'm not being charming, I'm a disaster in that room. And now I was going to feed a huge group of loved ones that could very easily turn on me if one of them gets food poisoning.

So I learn how to cook sausage links. A few people come by. Jake wants to take pics, which I cleverly avoid. T comes in with his camera, who caught on that I was avoiding him so he stubbornly took a few shots. Cody swings by and says, Allison are you ok? You look terrified... Finally the sausage was done. I survived. I've only got like second degree burns from the grease popping, but other than that, I'm alright.

Jess comes to the back and says, On to the bacon. Wait. What? I'm not emotionally prepared for bacon. She brings in a few pounds, yep, pounds, of bacon for us to cook. Cris comes in and gives me a few tips when it comes to cooking bacon. By the time that's done, I have to sit down for a second cuz I'm overwhelmed. I tried to hide the fact I'm crying a little but Courtney caught me. There was absolutely nothing wrong, I was just overwhelmed and that's the way we're wired. A few tears later and I'm ready for another pound of bacon.

The bacon is finished, and I've now got third degree burns from that bacon grease. It definitely pops you when you're least expecting it. Then I move over to Shawnelle who teaches me how to cook pancakes. Angie came by to see if she wanted to go eat and I tell her to go ahead, I think I'm alright. So she goes, but comes back cuz she wants some of "Allison's pancakes." We giggle and then she gives me strict instructions that now I have to practice my pancakes on someone.

All in all, my feet hurt cuz I was back there leaning over a griddle for hours, my hair smells like sausage/bacon, it was stressful, but I wouldn't have traded any of it. Everyone was completely supportive and I don't think anyone will die from my helping out in the kitchen. (Hear that God?) And when I went back into the kitchen Jess told me to turn right back around since I was a cook I was not going to clean up. A cook. She called me a cook!

Big thanks to Jess for her tenacity at getting me out of my comfort zone. Meg, for forcefully but gently shoving me in the direction of the kitchen. Carla, I will never look at another piece of bacon or sausage without thinking of you. Cris, for the stellar bacon tips. Courtney, for laughing at and with me through all this, and Shawnelle, in my heart you and I will forever be Aunt Jemima and Mrs. Butterworth...

Cold Calling...

Life has been crazy lately. Actually I don't think life really slows down much till you're dead. And then you're in heaven. I plan spending my eternal future on a porchswing with my Savior. In the meantime, I'm running around living life here right now.

I've been working a lot this week. So much so that I've been skipping a few meals to get everything taken care of. I still bring my lunch in the vague assumption at some point I'll be hungry, but usually I'm too busy. This morning I brought my lunch, leftover chinese, and put it in the fridge. Three o'clock rolls around and I realize my cell phone hasn't gone off in a while. In fact, I don't even see it on my desk. Hmm. Let me check my purse. Nope, no cell. And then the confusion clears as I consider the probability that I've left it in my lunch box, aka wal-mart bag. I go to the kitchen, open the fridge, grab the bag, look inside and low and behold, there's my phone.

At around three this afternoon, it died on me. The cold sucked the battery dry. But I did learn something in all this. I obviously need a vacation...

Betty Crocker...Or Not

A few days ago I decided that I wanted the smell of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies in my house. And a few in my tummy wouldn't hurt either. So I put on my gameface cuz I know I am a novice in the kitchen.

I get my weapons of choice. I pull out my baking sheet. My potholders, so I don't singe off my fingertips, a plate, a spatula, and the dough. Oh yeah, I'm not brave enough to try cookies from scratch. I figure I can totally not screw up slice and bake cookies. (Pride comes before a fall...)

I turn on the oven. I put eight of the cookies on the baking sheet. I set the timer on the microwave to 9 minutes. They recommend 10-14, but I like soft chocolate chip cookies. I put them in the oven, feeling very domestic. I get my plate ready. I'm so excited! Then I go sit on my tush. Eagerly awaiting the smell of fresh cookies to permeate every part of my living space.

Um, not so much. I come back at around eight minutes to check on them. They've not moved. They don't look like cookies at all! They look like just lumps of lard with chocolate chips in them. I don't understand this! I did everything that little package told me to do! I preheated the oven to 375. I put them an inch to an inch and a half apart from each other. They were on a baking sheet. I did every little thing!

Except for one teeny tiny, insignificant little detail. I didn't turn the oven from preheat to bake...