Thank goodness that I work with some incredible people. People that make me laugh. People that keep me sane.
People that remind me to take a deep breath, relax, and eat another brownie.
Except for the people that keep telling me to eat another brownie. They should have to go to jail. Because unfortunately for my health... I always do what I'm told. At least when it comes to food. And my body is pretty pissed off about it.
Today is my last day off before Christmas. My last day to get my mind and house prepared for the holiday that will be over in a blink of an eye. My former "Most Favorite Holiday" has now become the "Hopefully I Will Survive" holiday.
And my new favorite holiday is the day that I can sit back, relax, not worry, and bake a perfect dessert.
Speaking of baking..... I've learned this month that I am NO good at it. Like pretty awful and embarrassing actually.
And it makes me want to eat worms. ( Or wormes - if you are my neighbor that lives a couple of houses down and sells them for $3.00 a styrofoam cup)
You all know how much I love to cook. Like "love it so much that I would want to marry it" cook.
But baking. It takes patience. And that ain't somethin' I got.
The past couple of things I have tried have turned out disasters.
Caramel Cake - I dreamed of this all year. And yet couldn't quite seem to make the frosting taste like anything more than pure sugar. Not to mention that the cake was dry.
It went in the trash.
Buttermilk Biscuits - dry hard bricks of flour with a cardboard and dirt taste. ( I threw in the description of "dirt taste" for added drama)
Kev ate most of them. Because he is awesome like that. But I yelled in their faces and banished them to the woods.
And then there is today. I've been waiting all year to make these.....
Cinnamon Rolls from the Pioneer Woman. I tried to follow the recipe perfectly. I really did. I patiently let it rise for an hour. I rolled out the dough as best I could. And then things got sloppy and the cinnamon/butter/sugar/maple mixture may or may not be all over the floor... my apron... my counters... and my kitchen bar stools.
I was going to take a picture. But decided that it is in my best interest to not have proof of the mess I speak of. You know... In case Kev reads this post. And bans me from the kitchen.
I was making these homemade rolls as gifts. For friends and family. And maybe myself. And they turned out ok. But they definitely don't look like the picture. And my whole house does not smell like fresh baked Cinnamon rolls like the recipe promised.
But I do know that they were made with love. And a little bit of patience. And lots of butter, sugar, cinnamon, and butter. And a little more butter.
And then I realized that I should just stick to blogging. And cooking meat. And shaving. And applying anti-wrinkle cream every hour.
And stop trying to spend my last peaceful day until January making every single holiday treat that I find a recipe for.
Not to mention that Kev heard through the Gaston Gazette that there was quite a ruckus coming from our kitchen. And immediately sent over security to restrain me.
I'm typing this post by holding a pencil in my mouth and carefully hitting the keyboard.
You have no idea how much I have to tell you. How many adventures we have had over the past two months.
Well... it's really only about three. But they will be coming soon. And you are just going to have to deal with the fact that I may still be telling stories from Halloween and Thanksgiving when it is THE WEEK BEFORE CHRISTMAS!
Bless my heart!
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