Well, it has been two weeks since I have flung my mental detritus at you, and truth be told, I miss it like the tabloids miss La Lohan when she decides not to wander the streets of L.A., panties begone and dignity thrown to the wind, for a full weekend at a time. What has happened is this: It is a two-fold problem.
1. It is hot. It is August, which is ancient Latin for "foul swamp fungus," which means that outside, it is hot, humid, and generally akin to walking into an eighty-year-old man's denture-riffic mouth after he plowed through a bowl of Brunswick stew. The heat is killing me and my precious brain cells. All I want to do is bathe in sweet tea, with ice cubes and mint leaves floating around my puffy, sticky self. Would you believe that Lawyer Boy refuses to cold-brew me seventeen gallons of sweet tea? Oh, the abuse.
2. I have an obsession problem with food. If you're really interested in what I'm up to in my copious free time, when I'm not working as a paralegal, restoring my old house, being a crazy social butterfly, or being generally inappropriate, you can read about it here. I know I have told you before that I am a nuttermeister foodie, but I don't think I was really explicit enough about it. In layman's terms, I make up my own recipes and cater small events. (Actually, that's pretty much it, in layman's, technical, and theological terms.) When I'm in food mode, which I have been recently, my attempts at writing fail like Victoria Beckham on this side of the Atlantic. I can do one or the other, but both food and funny can't play on the same court.
Between the heat and the personal failure, the fact that I haven't flung poo at the World Wide Interwebs recently is killing me. KILLING ME. I have so many things to tell you, but they just fly around my head, shapeless and without reason, because all my good brain cells (the seven I haven't killed from alcohol) have been devoted to recipe development. I am working on coming back to you, amigos. I will be back soon. I promise.
PROMISE. Or I'll send you cookies.
Just ask Ghost Baker. When I say I'll send cookies, I send cookies. Look at my beautiful cookies, so glamorous in their very first Hollywood(-ish) photo shoot! All they're missing is their stunning feather boas and shiny lipstick.
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1 comment:
Wait, do you have two blogs? I can barely keep up with one. This peach blossom one, is it funny like this one or just about food?
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