Baked and Fried

You'd think that Corporate America (yes, it deserves capitalization) would make it easy on the average consumer to spend a fortune.  They want you to throw money at them, right?  Well, it turns out that our range purchase made it next-to-impossible to spend.  Because of size limitations and an old house, we kept striking out on the slide-in ranges we originally planned to buy. 

We ended up with another stand alone range (not my first choice), but I'm pretty happy with it.  It's got a massive baking capacity and an induction cook top, which makes my food-loving heart go pitter-patter. 

It took some finagling, and some pushy phone calls with Sears to get it leveled, but it's now a part of the family.  It's nice to finally have all of the appliances matching...but it's making me re-think the clock and the utensil holder.  There's entirely too much stainless steel going on right now. 

Where was I?

Now that I'm through with crock pot and electric griddle meals for the foreseeable future, you know where to find me: gleefully baking in front of this beauty.

Write Right Now

There's something daunting sometimes about sitting down to face a blank page. 

I've always got something to say (probably in your minds too much to say), but getting it out of my mind, through my fingers and on to the page makes me mute.  There you go. There's a good idea to get me to shut up - give me a piece of paper and tell me to write it rather than say it.

I'm trying to get in touch with my creative side and combine it with my love for Young Adult literature to come up with the next Great American Children's Novel (ha.  Just saying that makes me laugh!) 

It's slow going.

I've taken to keeping a small notebook on my bedside table so that when I can't sleep at night or when I have a dream that wakes me up with an idea, I can write it down.  This makes for some barely legible, highly entertaining dribble to read the next morning. 

So, I've got ideas and a character in mind.  But no plot.  And therein lies my biggest problem. 

It's playing around in my mind, but until I actually come up with something useful to say, I'm pretty sure I need this journal in my life:

Marching

Excuses. I've got them, believe me.  Work, church, catching a cold, more work.  Did I mention more work?

But enough of that. 

Life is good.  I survived the daylight savings transition and am now happily enjoying the extra hour of sunlight at the end of the day.  It makes me feel more productive in the evenings, which is good because I've been getting home later and need all of the productive-ness I can get when I'm home.

Blake's been getting home even later, so it feels good to keep busy while he's not home. 

We're both working towards our looming deadlines (his: April 2, Mine: April 10) and wondering if we're actually going to make it.  Some days it seems like those dates are coming too soon, but others it seems like they're never going to arrive.  Deadlines are a nasty tease.

At long last we got our oven.  It's got an induction cook-top, and I'm enjoying the learning curve that comes with a new range.  Basically, I'm just glad we've re-joined the 21st century (or even the 19th century for that matter...) and can enjoy the boxed-pasta delicacies that are a product of my deadline-induced stress. 

I love being an adult.

With some fava beans...

On Sunday I crocheted while golf and the Oscars' pre-show alternated in the background. 

I've got to say that the pre-show was slightly terrifying to listen to.  An overly-perky Kristin Chenoweth asked on repeat, "Who are you wearing?" in her blond, squeaky voice (yes, her voice actually sounds blond). 

Who else is disturbed by this question?  It's entirely too Silence of the Lambs for me.  Why can't they add it in the extra word and ask "Who designed your dress?"  Wait, that's not even an extra word; not even an extra syllable...this all makes no sense to me.

Surprisingly, the fashion commentary was even worse than the golf commentary.  How did that happen?

And why is everyone imitating "the leg?"  You know, Angelina Jolie's infamous dress of high-slitted lore?

On an unrelated note: yesterday Blake and I celebrated four years of marriage with pie for breakfast, dinner and dessert.  There's no better way to show your love for each other than eating until you've got a stomachache, right?