Since all the cool people are talking about it...

Good morning, Internet! And how was your New Year's Eve?

Did you go out and get down with your bad self? Did you drink? Did you eat? Were you merry? (Or can you only say that at Christmas?) Were you like one of the hundreds of thousands of INSANE people that went to Disneyland?

Let me say this about Disneyland on New Year's Eve. Psychotic. I've never done it myself (although one year The Husband and I went on Christmas Eve and It. Was. Nuts.) but the hotel I work in? (In which I work? Whatever.) It's a stone's throw away from the Happiest Place on Earth.

Each year, during the holidays, we are inundated with families who have decided that Disneyland is the place to be, not realizing that thousands- no, hundreds of thousands of other equally psychotic families have also decided the same.

I feel bad for the families who don't know. The families who think the parks will be quiet because it's a holiday.

Disneyland's busiest days of the year are Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years. They sell out and have to turn people away. It's, for lack of a better word, crazy.

And, yes, I realize I've gotten completely off topic here, but I just had to get that off my chest.

So, what'd ya do to celebrate? Did you even make it up to midnight?

I did. Sorta. I fell asleep on the couch while The Husband flipped back and forth between Dick Clark and Tru TV's Speeders (not my first choice).

He woke me up after the ball dropped and steered me towards bed. Although, he did get a kiss at midnight. Okay, it was more like a kiss at twelve ten, but who's counting?

I've never been big on New Year's. Maybe 'cause I've never been big on people in general and it doesn't matter where you go on New Year's Eve, it's guaranteed to be busting at the seams.

We woke up on the first day of the new year to a cold, foggy morning. It's been like this for a couple of days now so I dragged The Husband out of the comfort of our warm bed and we trekked out to snap a couple photos. Of course, by the time we were actually ready and left the apartment, most of the fog was starting to burn away.

Still, it was so peaceful outside. There were very few people out and about, which I love. I wish I were an early riser. I'd get out of bed before everyone else each morning just to enjoy the calm and quiet. It's so refreshing.

Unfortunately, I find it physically painful to get out of bed when my alarm goes off and snooze eight times each day.

I hope you all have a really wonderful 2009.

In which I whine like a child myself.

Two days after Christmas, The Husband and I found ourselves out and about, shopping running important errands.

On Christmas day, I cooked. A lot. What does this mean? Leftovers. We have a ton of them. And since I've quit eating for good this time (she says after consuming her eleventh oatmeal cookie), it's up to The Husband to finish what's left before it goes bad.

So, again, it's two days after Christmas and we're sitting in the car, on our way home.

"I think I want to order pizza tonight," he says to me. Randomly.

"Huh? Pizza? But we have tons of leftovers at home."

"But I'm not in the mood for those right now."

Okay, let me just stop here. You're not IN THE MOOD? Well, what are you in the mood for, buddy? Are you in the mood to flush all our money down the drain? The money we spent on the perfectly good and delicious food that is sitting in the refrigerator just waiting for some nice man to come along and pop it in the microwave for a toasty two-minute spin?

Because here's how I see this playing out. You order a $20 pizza. You have a few slices and put the rest in the fridge (MORE LEFTOVERS). Now, the next time you're hungry, what are you going to choose? The leftover Christmas dinner? Or the pizza? The pizza, of course. It requires less work which means you can get back to your football, poker, whatever that much faster. (Which is the ultimate goal here, right?)

So, now you're eating pizza and the Christmas dinner is slowly going bad and crying a soggy mess in the stuffing. Before you know it, I'll have to throw out said leftovers and then you'll stand there frowning at me like you do every time you watch me throw away what was once perfectly edible and tasty food.

Then I'll get laid off. We won't have any more money OR FOOD or internet access for that matter. We'll have to sell your precious TV on which you're able to watch every game available and then you'll wish you had a plate of leftover green bean casserole.



Of course, when I say "no" to pizza, what do I get in return?

"Don't treat me like a child."

Well, STOP ACTING LIKE ONE THEN.

(Insert clever title here because I can't think of one.)

Is anyone else tired of seeing this guy's mug on the home page of Flickr?

Tell me something. Are you a fan of the chin butt?

Me? Not so much. I realize a lot of girls dig it, but there's only one man who I think can get away with the chin butt and that's my next husband.

Sigh.

You know, I'm not a band-wagoner. I don't tend to cheer for teams just because they're winning. Nor do I root for the underdog. Sorry, but Detroit Lions fans? I feel bad for you. If I were a Detroit Lions fan, I would become a aband-wagoner. Get it?

Sometimes I make myself laugh. The Husband is amazing at keeping a straight face. I say something funny, get the giggles before I even finish my sentence, and he maintains a blank stare and then tells me, "It's not funny if you laugh at your own joke."

And then I call him Debbie Downer. And I tell him not to get his panties in a twist. For some reason, this makes me laugh uncontrollably.

Speaking of future husbands.

I'd almost be embarrassed to admit this. I am so completely infatuated with Alton Brown right now I don't know what to do with myself. In a book of his that I just recently paid full price for acquired, he says about his blueberry something-or-other recipe... "Sometimes I overindulge to the point of making myself ill... and I'm okay with that." And that's when I thought, we are so meant to be.

Besides, he can help me bake perfect cookies every time.

Ahh, cookies. Don't get me started. Last night I wanted to bake cookies so bad. And for no good reason except I wanted to use my new mixer, dang it. And my new-found baking knowledge that Alton has taught me from reading his book. Check it out if you want to learn how an egg can make or break your cookies or what happens when you whip cream. It's fascinating.

Another question. Do you prefer homemade whip cream? Or store bought? Or Cool Whip?

I prefer homemade when I'm being naughty.

Cool Whip is my nemesis. Seriously. Can't open a tub of the stuff without eating the entire thing. And the sad truth about it? I don't even like it that much.

However, several months ago I found this recipe on this much better blog and I made it and I was in love. It tastes just like Key Lime Pie, except I haven't had Key Lime Pie in forever, so I could be wrong, but it's really freaking delicious. I made it for my birthday back in September, when it was all hot out. This pie was so tart and sweet and cool and refreshing. And.

I totally can't find the recipe now. I think it goes like this: mix together a large tub of Cool whip, a can of frozen lime-aid, and a can of sweetened condensed milk. (I let everything defrost on the counter, but I don't think I was supposed to. It was easier to mix and still came out perfectly, so I recommend doing the same.)

Pour mixture into two graham cracker crusts (which I could totally eat plain) and freeze. Then eat a whole one buy yourself to make me feel better for doing the same not too long ago.

This totally made me laugh when I saw it over at Fussy's.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nKoB8TPyHBo&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

You've probably already seen it. I am always the last to see everything. It's sad.

And, oh yes, you, too, will have that song stuck in your head for hours on end. Just like me. Except, for some unexplainable reason, every time I start singing it to myself (I'm alone a lot), I say "chocolate" instead of "popcorn." I don't do it intentionally. It just... comes out that way.

Eventually, I will poop chocolate.

I know, what a way to end a post.

The choices are endless.

These three glorious books found their way into my stocking on Christmas (with The Husband's Santa's help). Okay, it was actually a Barnes & Noble gift card that made it's way into my stocking, but who's counting?

What's really great about these books is I found all but one on the bargain shelf. Tell me that's not the best thing ever.

I picked out the Good Housekeeping Illustrated Book of Desserts because, well, I like pictures. Lots of them. And this book has them in abundance.

Each recipe contains several pictures of tips and techniques and ingredients, plus in depth instructions. I need instructions. Otherwise things go very, very badly.

I found the Hershey's Classic Recipes cookbook on the bargain shelf. It has fantastic, simple recipes using my all time favorite chocolate. Hershey's.

Can I tell you a secret? As kids, my parents used to buy us those giant Hershey's Kisses for Christmas. I would put mine in the oven and bake it for a few minutes. For no good reason except I think the taste of almost burnt Hershey's chocolate is to die for. Seriously.

I also found The Great American Cookie Cookbook on the bargain shelf. I already know this is where I'll spend most of my time.

The thing is... I like to bake for baking's sake. Don't get me wrong, I also love to taste (a lot), but it's the baking that I love. It probably has something to do with my hyper-organized personality, but who cares, right? It's just so much fun.

However, like I said, I do love to taste (a lot) so I need to be able to send the baked goods off with The Husband. (Before the baked goods stick permanently to my bottom.)

Cookies and cookie bars are easily packed up and sent away. Cakes and pies with pieces missing (not to mention the fork marks where someone just couldn't resist one more bite) don't go over too well.

Now it's a matter of deciding on a recipe. I want to try recipes that I've never tried in the past and would normally shy away from.

Do I start with the Delightful Peanut Butter Marshmallow Cookie Bars? Or The Orange Pecan Gems? (I have a bunch of leftover pecans in the cupboard, but if I put nuts in the cookies, The Husband might divorce me.)

Okay, how about the Elvis Would Have Loved These Peanut Butter Cookies that are drizzled with a frosting made of butter, peanut butter, and marshmallows then sprinkled with peanut butter chips.

This is going to be a touch decision.

And can someone please tell me why I'm leaning towards the combo of peanut butter and marshmallows?

Candy Cane Cookies and a poem.

"I Ate My Best Friend"
Written especially for me for this blog for you, by J.

7:50a.m., I’m walking out the door to school and smelling something good
Thinking about checking it out, decide I probably should
Now in front of a counter, I can’t believe my eyes
Millions of cookies and suddenly I’m hypnotized



No, just kidding, there’s only fifteen
A “Do Not Touch” sign lies in between
The double-chocolate chip one and the frosted sugar cookie
These cookies look just great, I think that I’ll play hookie



8:15a.m., and I’ve only eaten three
Three isn’t many, but if you only knew me
You’d be confused too, thinking I’d have eaten them all by now
But these cookies aren’t normal, they’re giant so I don’t know how



9 a.m., and I wish I never learned how to eat at all
Too full to move, accidentally ran into a wall and fell down in the hall
I didn’t know what a “food coma” was before, now I definitely do
And since there’s no one around to ask “Why’d you let me eat them all?”
Cookies, I blame you

Feeling bad for whoever decided to bake, because they don’t have a clue
No, Cookie, they don’t have a clue that I ate all of you
And now you’re all gone, crumbs all over the place
Whoever made you, Cookie, I’m definitely afraid to face

(The recipe for these cookies was found here. I made them bite-sized and drowned them in white chocolate. Everything should be drowned in white chocolate, don'cha think?)

It's Christmas! (In case you live under a rock.)

If you look really closely, you can see me. And most of my apartment. Well... not most, but some. You can definitely see the long row of furniture that we had to push together to fit the enormous so-not-Charlie-Brown Christmas tree.

Someone was spoiled this year and by "someone" I mean me.

I'm totally going to make love to this thing all day year long.

I didn't cook a big meal, just a few things that I knew The Husband and I and The Mother-in-Law would enjoy.

I think this was the only meal I've ever prepared that was actually timed perfectly and by "timed perfectly" I mean all the food was hot AT THE SAME TIME.

The verdict is still out on the pie. But we'll take care of that soon enough.

Now? It's a lot of this...

And later, a movie. And probably a second helping. And tomorrow? I quit eating.

Merry Christmas, Internet!

The weatherman totally lied.

Yeah, I know. Where are the Christmas posts, right? It's Winter, not Summer. Enough of the ocean!

Well, I'm on vacation this week which means I'm just sitting around eating cookies doing absolutely nothing and when The Husband says there's supposed to be a great sunset tonight according to the weatherman (she says with disdain), I think why the hell not?

Unfortunately, the sun never did break through. But I wasn't the only one to be disappointed.

When we got there, we were walking along the pier, looked over and saw... this.

At first, I only saw the crop circles. (And, yes, I realize they are not crop circles, but that's how I'm going to refer to them in this post.)

Then I noticed the people.

The real live people photographers.

Anyone for a swim?

J and I went to the beach last night. She wanted to jump off things and I said, "I'll get my camera!"

No, seriously. She's been asking me to take pictures of her jumping off swings. I don't know why. She's fourteen. Is that normal?

I told her I would, but we keep getting sidetracked. So, when we decided to run down to the beach, she said I could take a picture of her jumping off the lifeguard station and I said, "Oh, how gracious of you." (She's odd.)

Unfortunately, it was just dark enough to prevent us from getting nice, sharp images. That doesn't stop me from loving this one.

Such a turkey.

I seriously thought she was taking off her shoes to test the water. I waited, holding my breath, to see if she would really do it.

Now, I know there are several of you out there enduring blizzards and more snow than you know what to do with and you guys are cold. I get that.

But, for those of us raised here in southern California, Land of Sunshine, it was cold down by the ocean. It was windy and my teeth chattered. Loudly.

I could only imagine how cold that water was. I'm getting the chills just thinking about it.

She never did stick her toes in. The coward.

It'd be nice to have a great wide angle lens to capture the enormity of the ocean, but standing my little sister there in front of the waves does the trick as far as I'm concerned.

One day, I think The Husband and I will probably move out of state. As much as I try to deny it, leaving the beaches will be difficult.