If you have a Facebook account, I’m sure your feed is inundated with these short videos of food being prepared. I don’t know who started this, but I already started following the Tasty Food page.
Apparently, my boyfriend enjoys these videos as well and saw a recipe for a peach cobbler. It was really simple: peach at the bottom of a slow cooker, cake mix, butter, nuts. We had a hard time finding a can of peach filling – KeyFood and Fair Trade both failed me – so we opted for sliced peaches in heavy syrup. Two and a half hours later, it was ready.
It wasn’t bad. I picked one of those super moist vanilla cake mix which made the cobbler too sweet. We also had the cobbler with vanilla ice cream, and it says a lot when you have to have ice cream to cut the sweetness of the cobbler. It’s still good but you can’t eat this by spoonfuls.
I decided to bring some with me to work. I always want something sweet at the end of the meal and a small serving of peach cobbler with ice cream would be great. So the night before my work week begins, I got a small container, filled the bottom with peach cobbler and topped it with ice cream. I put the container with my lunch in a bag and put it away in the fridge. The following morning, I grabbed my lunch bag and head out to work.
When I got to work and I was about to put away my lunch is when I realized my huge mistake. You see, according to science, ice cream melts. And because our peach cobbler was really sweet, to cut the sweetness, I added a big serving of ice cream. I left my cobbler with ice cream in the fridge overnight. And my container is now basically soup with cake soaked in ice cream, and with floating chunks of peaches. It looked like it was thrown up. It was sludge.
The idiot in me said this can be salvage so I put the whole thing in our freezer at work. I have three hours until lunch time, this would be fine. After eating lunch, I grabbed my dessert and now I had frozen sludge. Which I had to put in the microwave so I could dig in.
I finished the damn thing.
I heard Alan Rickman passed away at 69. He was Severus Snape to most. Maybe Hans Gruber to the nostalgic. Rasputin to the snobs.
But for me, he was Harry. He worked in a design agency. Married to Karen and had a bunch of kids. Flirted with coworker Mia and even got her a necklace for Christmas. It still breaks my heart seeing that scene in Love Actually when Karen opens her gift from her husband, thinking it’s the necklace she recently saw in her husband’s coat, and unwrapping a Joni Mitchell album of Both Sides Now.
Harry said he was a fool when he realized his wife was able to figure out the possible affair he is having.
Today, I listen to Joni Mitchell at work. I wait for the end of the day, go home, and watch Love Actually again.
I wrote this at two in the afternoon, and I probably should be working but I rushed through my usual 15-day workload down to ten days so I can have a long vacation, something that I missed this summer.
Just last week, I redeemed a trip I won from my company holiday raffle – a trip to Nantucket for two. It was a short weekend trip, it was raining and cold but it was a good break from my job. I haven’t had a break from work for pretty much the past ten months, and our payroll coordinator never fails to remind me of my eighteen vacation days unclaimed.
You can see more pictures here: https://goo.gl/photos/QaDFukXqmRzmyXmh9
A long overdue trip is in place. There were talks of maybe going to Japan, but plans with a friend fell through which left my boyfriend and I with ten days of vacations set aside but nowhere to go. He was the one who actually suggested Paris, and I said yes without any hesitation.
So here I am, at work, could not focus on anything, anticipating the plane ride to Europe 🙂
Je suis perdu tu n’es plus dans ma rue
Cette nuit tu as disparu de ma vue
When your actions strike a chord
And my presence ignored –
Like a vase with a hidden crack,
Like a tiny mole on your back.
Will be turning 32 soon and for the next seven days leading up to my birthday, I’m going to try to write down any lessons I may have learned from the past year when I was 31.
I’ve always enjoyed reading. I grew up with my mom, and she read a lot of books despite the fact that we lived far away from retail bookstores which makes me wonder now how she got a hold of her vast collection of Sidney Sheldon novels, or her book about Margaret Thatcher. When I was seven, I visit my dad’s family for the first time in Colorado and was impressed with my grandmother’s library in the basement. Despite my fear of the basement – I recall going downstairs, sometimes alone, and just looking through the different western novels and books about vampires and ghosts. Impressionable Ken somehow ended up liking strong female leads like Thatcher, and still have the penchant for the unnatural like vampires and ghosts.
I gave up my iPod for Lent – which makes subway rides to and from work unbearable. I typically listen to podcasts to kill time – now, I read books. It’s been roughly three weeks since Ash Wednesday and I’ve already gone through at least four books. I read The Island in the Center of the World by Russell Shorto which told about the Dutch colonization of Manhattan and the surrounding areas, Susannah Cahalan’s Brain on Fire about a New York Post writer who went through a month ordeal of a mental breakdown due to some unusual medical condition, The Testament of Mary by Colm Toibin which a fiction narrative of what Mary Mother of Jesus might have gone experience after the death of her son, and Colin Dickey’s Afterlives of the Saints which told stories of different and very unusual saints like Saint Lucy who gouged out her own eyes.
Currently reading Sybil Exposed by Debbie Nathan which chronicled the story of Shirley Mason, whose life inspired a book, which was later turned into a tv movie special that nabbed Sally Field an Emmy back in the 70s.
Obviously, I have a thing for New York stories, crazy people and the nonsecular. And frankly, I don’t think I’d stop reading stories similar to these.
Attended a celebrity art auction at Pier 60 – Doodles for Hunger. Pretty amazing night.