You might have noticed that I haven’t been posting SISS for quite some time. You also might not have noticed. Probably more likely the latter. But no matter because it’s back for a limited time at the very least. The hiatus was not due to any lack of awesome on the internetties, but much more to do with my inherent laziness multiplied by that depression motherfucker added to I just started school.
Hey y’all, guess what I learned at school this week. You can search for information on Google. It has like, all the knowledge of the world. Also, accept and except mean two totally different things. And finally, a Master’s degree does not absolve one of the need to shower.
And now it’s almost Easter, which to a non-Christian(me) doesn’t mean a whole hell of a lot. It’s like the anti-holiday holiday. Except for the Cadbury mini eggs, which are leading me down the road to diabetes one egg at a time. One egg, one bag. Tomato, tomato.
Easter has never really been a big deal in our home, even when we were technically Christians. Which was to say, not at all by the standards of other Christians. Something about living communally with a charismatic leader while praying to many “Masters”(sorta like saints or mini gods or Steve Jobs) doesn’t really go over to well with the Jesus crowd. The best thing about Easter was the new dress. The worst thing about Easter was the potential to spend up to twelve long hours sitting on the hard ass ground of Ascension Hill while we wait for some “Master” to dictate to us through their conduit, Mother. Let me tell you, I would rather go naked for a week than suffer through that, and the subsequent lobster-like burn, again.
So Easter has always been a non-event for me. But dudes, now a have a kid. A kid that could potentially help me re-live all the cool shit about childhood. Egg dying was cool, we should do that shit. Easter baskets were cool, check. Egg hunts were balls out. I once won the hunt by finding a marble egg. Awesomesauce. Sweet, my mom’s group has an annual egg hunt so I don’t even have to plan the shit myself. I just stuff a few eggs, bring something yummy and show up. I am so making Pioneer Woman’s Vanilla Scones. I am a domestic goddess. I make Cake Batter Muddy Buddies AND Cake Batter Rice Krispies. I scoff at vanilla scones. And then I devour them. With my mouth.
Why didn’t anyone tell me that scones require specialized equipment? Pastry cutters and sifters and rolling pins. I mean, who has this shit? It’s archaic. Everyone must know by now that you can buy the cookies already cut out. You just stick them in the oven and it’s homemade goodness. In my mouth.
So I McGyver’ed up some specialized kitchen shit and did the thing. PW told me(and the rest of the viewing and/or reading public) that the dough would be quite crumbly. Oh, P Dub, you so crazy. I scoff at crumbly dough. Until I’m left, weeping, with a crumbly pile of dough that refuses to be rolled out flat by my coffee thermos rolling pin. Somehow I manage to soldier on and create some pretty tasty cakes drenched in tastiness. But these are not the lovely, perfect scones of one Mrs. P. W. Diddy. No, these are the bastard children of the guy that services the septic tank of a passing acquaintance of the lady in question. But even bastard children can taste great if you glaze them with vanilla infused icing. Let that be a lesson to you all on the true meaning of Easter. Sugar heals all wounds.
There is so much more to link to, but so little time. As always Trifecta, Seeking Elevation, Karen is Muttering, Bugginword. I am currently obsessed with Crack You Whip. The first link is to one of her hilfreakinglarious posts. Read that shit. You will probably pee your pants. You may even die. Of laughter. Read everything she had written and then beg her for more. Seriously. I can’t because I’m too lazy. There’s also that matter of showering every day. It’s eating up my free time, yo.
The Prince of Whales
Mdk: Vegan Cheese Cake
It Gets Better at BYU
go on… scan it…
A Softer World: 793
And then this piece of fried gold happened because I’m the luckiest person ever
Petite Vanilla Scones