Do you ever spend money on something you could do perfectly well yourself, if not for a certain lack of time and/or abundance of laziness?
Like scrubbing the toilet. I don’t like to do that. Not because I think I’m above it (I clean up my kids’ vomit, so I’m not above anything), but because I do a horrible job. It’s just not my area of expertise. Likewise, I avoid setting off bug bombs. Exterminators are my friends.
Time is scary.
I used to think that people who stretched as part of their exercise routine were total babies. At the time, I could push my body to crazy lengths and never feel a thing the next day except mild soreness.
Fast forward several years, and I’m no longer that brazen ignoramus. I’ve always been a hard-core exercise fanatic, but lately, I stretch with equal zeal and fervor. If I don’t, my body punishes me. And no matter what I do, that darned crick in my neck just won’t go away.
Sometimes wonderful things are staring you right in the face and you don’t see them.
Take my husband, for instance. I knew him for 7 years before we even thought about dating. I mean, it’s not like I never noticed him. He was super adorable. How could I not? But for some reason, it just didn’t click for quite some time that he was the man I was meant to be with. Luckily, we both figured it out.
I feel the same way about these brownies, though on a slightly less major level. I’ve made brownies for years. I’ve loved rocky road anything for years. Why have I never done this?
You know what food bloggers hate the most? Not recipe epic fails, though that is certainly near the top of my list. Not a lack of inspiration. Not the sinking realization that even though you made an amazing cake, someone needs it as a gift so you can’t take photos of individual slices.
Nope. The rain.
Happy Friday, y’all! I am on a break from all things digital today and tomorrow, but I will respond to your comments and catch up on my awesome Bloglovin’ feed shortly.
Apparently, it’s peach season. I had no idea. I always figured that peaches thrive best in the summertime, along with nectarines. Why is that not true? Can anyone explain it to me?
I’ll be honest. Given the choice between a peach and a nectarine, I’ll go nectarine every time. Something about that fuzzy skin throws me. I’m suspicious of it. But when I’m making a crumble and peeling the fruit anyway, it doesn’t matter!
Whenever I go to the mall, I always see the Godiva sign hanging like a beacon in the distance, beckoning me toward its glory. And sometimes I will stop in and buy some chocolate, especially the truffles. If you haven’t tried their red velvet truffle, just do it now.
But sometimes I want to make my own. It’s cheaper, pretty easy, and I can get creative. The hardest part about making a truffle is really just deciding to buckle down and do it.
It’s Sunday night. Translation: I’m a little cranky. Sunday is errand day, a time to get things together before the onslaught of the week begins. Also, I’m a bit peeved because my husband has tomorrow off for Columbus Day, as do most of the people who work in the DC area. Not me. Nope. I’m working a full day tomorrow!
Sorry, I’m gloomy. When this kind of mood strikes, only one thing can help. Lots and lots of peanut butter. In a bar. With chocolate.
Gimme Some More Peanut Butter Bars
I like to keep my chocolate in the freezer. Have you tried it? If not, I highly recommend. The whole consistency and texture and flavor just changes in this magical way when chocolate is frozen.
What eventually happens is that the front drawer in my freezer is full of goodies: M & Ms, chocolate chips, butterscotch chips, peanut butter chips. If it’s got chocolate, it’s in there! So every now and then I have to get rid of whatever is in there and then replenish gradually. It’s the circle of life.
I don’t eat much pizza. Not for want of loving it, believe me. I love pizza. Honestly, I know very few people who don’t. Like my kids. They eat a lot of pizza.
But pizza leads to heartburn, and tummyaches, and vast regret. I guess that means I have to pretend to be a grown-up and not eat much of it. Well, the traditional kind. Nobody ever said anything about cookie pizza!
I have to take a break from all the fall stuff, everyone. I mean, pumpkin and apple and spice are all super nice, but my peanut butter and chocolate fiend self has been begging for satisfaction.
You know that I can only go so long without my fix. So this weekend, I thunked a jar of peanut butter and a package of milk chocolate chips on the counter. Then I stared at them for a while, just contemplating. After a few minutes, I knew what I had to do.
