tobermory's Diaryland Diary


Brownies to win your heart

Aiiiiiiiiiyyyy! Too much to do! Tonight I must complete cleaning the bathroom and begin packing. I was smart and threw the skanky shower curtain and the bath mats of grubbiness (so grubby that I shook them outside before putting them in the wash tub lest I clog the drainage hose and flood the basement, something that I have done in the past to Steveís great irritation) into the wash this morning, so tonight I will toss them into the dryer. I know what youíre thinking right now, but I know what Iím doing. I only let it tumble for about 5 minutes before I stop the dryer and grab the shower curtain out. It doesnít have time to melt and set my house afire but it does come out dry and pliable and easy to re-hang. I might start packing too Ė since I have boot camp on Friday morning that Iíd like to go to Iíll need to get to bed at a reasonable hour and not participate in my favorite sport of pacing around my bedroom and randomly grabbing clothes I might need to stuff in my suitcase Thatís probably enough chores for tonight so I think Iíll leave the laundry and vacuuming for tomorrow. Iím seriously considering Nair-ing the cats because they are the hairiest little buggers around, and at this time of year the tumbleweeds of cat hair begin to grow to frightening sizes. Speaking of critters I also have to cook for the spoiled dog tonight and then burn the necessity of remembering to bring her food along when she goes to the vet/kennel on Friday. I forgot last time and she seemed OK but Iíd like to minimize her stress as much as possible. Food seems to be her chief pleasure in life, so why screw with her teeny leetle brain? Again speaking of the wee hairy creatures, I have to take Wendy to the vet tomorrow morning for her annual poke Ďní prod. She just loves that. She has the bitchiest meow Ė it sounds like Ehhhhhhhnnnn! and she does it with her mouth wide open so if youíre close up Ė say, like a vet would be Ė you get a noseful of stanky cat breath. P-U.

Gah. I just spoke to Mrs. Baker, the uber-nice wife of the couple we bought the schoolhouse from (for those not in the know, with the life-insurance $$ I received after my passed away, I bought about 4 acres of land with an old, brick, one-room schoolhouse on it in Wisconsin near where I vacation), and theyíre having a neighborhood get together next week while weíre up there. Itís sort of like our coming out party. She told me that it was a potluck but I didnít have to bring anything. Um, no. If Iím coming to a get together I had better be bringing something and it better be good. I have to rustle up my recipe for butterscotch brownies (tastes great, not many ingredients, easy to bake) and hunt around for some sort of cold salad recipe. I think I have one for a broccoli salad thatís really good. I want to pick something traditional Ė not all citified with strange unidentifiable ingredients. I do not want my Ďdish-to-passí to go untouched because it looks weird. I want my food to make me legendary in Exeter, Wisconsin. Is that too much to ask of a pan of brownies and a salad? Or, will it be like Homer Simpson told Lisa, "You don't make friends with salad."

Breakfast: Crispix, cottage cheese snack-pack.
Lunch: WW Smart Ones Three-cheese Ziti Marinara, cherry tomatoes
Dinner: leftover crab legs, roasted chicken, and veggie salad. Cookie.
Exercise: Boot Camp: I was sorely disappointed this morning because we were supposed to have a spin class but the gym is installing a new sprinkler system so we were joined by the displaced Group Power Class. I wasnít thrilled by the perky instructor, but I think the group class was even less thrilled that they were expected to run some laps. Tonightís the last Belly Dance class until next session starts up on September 19th. I think tonight weíre just going to go run through the choreography over and over until itís burned into our tiny little minds and we stop turning in the wrong directions and bumping into one another. Most embarrassing. If you have some strange compulsion to hear the music weíre dancing to, itís Mosh it Up by Funkadesi.

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4:31 p.m. - 2007-08-29


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