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I might be a trifle light looney. I don't really care. It probably helped me deal with whatever random anxiety I had going on. Oh brain chemistry, you so mean.
It's MAY! Oh my word it is May. May is trying to make sweet love to me with the weather. It might be working. May you don't even have to buy me a three course dinner to get into my pants. You could just get me some fries at Dennys. Middle of the night fries, served up by a someone who plain does not give a single fuck about my joy. I don't care either. I will tip that imaginary server well.
Today I went to the baker, and the grocery store. I think I may save the butcher, and candlestick maker for later in the week. (when it is likely something new has come in.) It was an all right day for going to the grocery store. It wasn't the usual frantic party house. I got things, winced about the price, and then went on my merry way. This afternoon I helped Miss Biscuit plant her carnation plant. She really watered that thing good. I hope that it wasn't too watered. We looked for snails, and then watched the bumble bees. Then I helped her sticker things from some Peppa Pig magazine. Sticker sticker. It was a good excuse to listen to a lot of music. Sometimes when we are driving around and the radio is on, the kids will ask the name of a song if they really like it and so I keep a mental note of things to listen to again. It turns out Miss Biscuit is a fan of Fleetwood Mac. Which kind of makes sense. She is dramatic and has a thing for scarves. Just stay away from dysfunctional band dynamics and cocaine, child.
I bought a bunch of roasted peanuts, and with Miss Biscuit's help, we shelled all of those things. (to those who ask why I didn't buy already shelled peanuts, these were cheap and I like activities that are inane and yet kind of meditative, because it sometimes allows my mind to calm down. Shelling peanuts: try it.) Then we threw that into the food processor (with a few almonds) and made our own peanut butter. You ask, "Miss gfrancie, why don't you buy peanut butter?" First of all, damn you people ask a lot of questions. Second, It is difficult to find peanut butter that doesn't have a load of additives (hello palm oil) and doesn't cost an arm and a leg. Also a lot of the "natural" peanut butter that is available in the UK, looks and tastes like wet cement. I realized today WHY that is. They doin't freaking grind/process that business long enough. Because whatever is being sold in these parts is nothing like the Adams peanut butter I have known and loved my entire life. Adams, you need to send some folks over to show how its done. Anyhow, this peanut butter that I made was pretty delicious.
After picking up Senor Onion from school (he said that they worked on making gingerbread houses as part of the whole "ginger bread boy" learning experience.) it was time to bake chocolate chip cookies. Somewhere in between making chocolate chip cookies, Senor Onion was poking around in the fridge for something to eat because after school he has taken to eating ALL OF THE FOOD. (yes, he eats his snack and lunch at school. The child is growing or something.) I mentioned the peanut butter and the kids suddenly became excited at the idea of having peanut butter on bread because it had been a few months since they had had peanut butter. (no one had been enthusiastic about the UK peanut butter) OMG, it was like manna to them. HURRAY HURRAY FOR PEANUT BUTTER! I think a part of me was kind of pleased because while they have embraced so much of British life/culture/cuisine; sometimes I worry about losing that other side of their culture. I know I know... chill Gen. But they still love really good peanut butter on bread. There is balance. A love of peanut butter and a love of marmite. (well Senor Onion loves marmite. Miss Biscuit thinks marmite can go leap off a cliff.) They went out side with their peanut butter and bread. (they also had slices of strawberry on top.) It likely killed their appetite because they had no interest in dinner. Well they don't have much interest in dinner if it isn't the usual pedestrian comfort food. They are normal. But still... I said to Mr. Jenner that after living in a fairly long depressive episode and I slowly find some interest in cooking again, that it can be difficult to tell if they are just being children or if I need to work on my skills as a cook. I made a couple of puff pastry tarts. One with pesto, zucchini, tomatoes, and a bit of cheese to hold it all together. The other had layers of prosciutto, and tomato. Senor Onion objected to the existence of tomato and zucchini. I also made a pretty zippy bean salad with a balsamic syrup (the syrup which I made not too long ago.) Senor Onion liked the beans but found the roasted pepper to be some kind of vicious joke. Miss Biscuit cried and wept, "I am NOT having any pudding tonight. I shall only sip my milk." Then she spent much of the meal upside down. Children, I don't think you will be invited to any of Nan Kempner's Sunday night spaghetti dinners at the rate you are going. Mr. Jenner enjoyed dinner. He was even polite about the bean salad. (he isn't a fan of beans but he loves his wife and would probably eat maple walnut ice cream for pudding every night for three months and still be a good sport.)
Oh well it's my own fault, letting the children eat peanut butter at 4 in the afternoon because everyone was cheering for peanut butter like they were rare eggs in post war ration era England.
After the children go to bed, I am going to eat some of those chocolate chip cookies we made. They will be delicious.
It's MAY! Oh my word it is May. May is trying to make sweet love to me with the weather. It might be working. May you don't even have to buy me a three course dinner to get into my pants. You could just get me some fries at Dennys. Middle of the night fries, served up by a someone who plain does not give a single fuck about my joy. I don't care either. I will tip that imaginary server well.
Today I went to the baker, and the grocery store. I think I may save the butcher, and candlestick maker for later in the week. (when it is likely something new has come in.) It was an all right day for going to the grocery store. It wasn't the usual frantic party house. I got things, winced about the price, and then went on my merry way. This afternoon I helped Miss Biscuit plant her carnation plant. She really watered that thing good. I hope that it wasn't too watered. We looked for snails, and then watched the bumble bees. Then I helped her sticker things from some Peppa Pig magazine. Sticker sticker. It was a good excuse to listen to a lot of music. Sometimes when we are driving around and the radio is on, the kids will ask the name of a song if they really like it and so I keep a mental note of things to listen to again. It turns out Miss Biscuit is a fan of Fleetwood Mac. Which kind of makes sense. She is dramatic and has a thing for scarves. Just stay away from dysfunctional band dynamics and cocaine, child.
I bought a bunch of roasted peanuts, and with Miss Biscuit's help, we shelled all of those things. (to those who ask why I didn't buy already shelled peanuts, these were cheap and I like activities that are inane and yet kind of meditative, because it sometimes allows my mind to calm down. Shelling peanuts: try it.) Then we threw that into the food processor (with a few almonds) and made our own peanut butter. You ask, "Miss gfrancie, why don't you buy peanut butter?" First of all, damn you people ask a lot of questions. Second, It is difficult to find peanut butter that doesn't have a load of additives (hello palm oil) and doesn't cost an arm and a leg. Also a lot of the "natural" peanut butter that is available in the UK, looks and tastes like wet cement. I realized today WHY that is. They doin't freaking grind/process that business long enough. Because whatever is being sold in these parts is nothing like the Adams peanut butter I have known and loved my entire life. Adams, you need to send some folks over to show how its done. Anyhow, this peanut butter that I made was pretty delicious.
After picking up Senor Onion from school (he said that they worked on making gingerbread houses as part of the whole "ginger bread boy" learning experience.) it was time to bake chocolate chip cookies. Somewhere in between making chocolate chip cookies, Senor Onion was poking around in the fridge for something to eat because after school he has taken to eating ALL OF THE FOOD. (yes, he eats his snack and lunch at school. The child is growing or something.) I mentioned the peanut butter and the kids suddenly became excited at the idea of having peanut butter on bread because it had been a few months since they had had peanut butter. (no one had been enthusiastic about the UK peanut butter) OMG, it was like manna to them. HURRAY HURRAY FOR PEANUT BUTTER! I think a part of me was kind of pleased because while they have embraced so much of British life/culture/cuisine; sometimes I worry about losing that other side of their culture. I know I know... chill Gen. But they still love really good peanut butter on bread. There is balance. A love of peanut butter and a love of marmite. (well Senor Onion loves marmite. Miss Biscuit thinks marmite can go leap off a cliff.) They went out side with their peanut butter and bread. (they also had slices of strawberry on top.) It likely killed their appetite because they had no interest in dinner. Well they don't have much interest in dinner if it isn't the usual pedestrian comfort food. They are normal. But still... I said to Mr. Jenner that after living in a fairly long depressive episode and I slowly find some interest in cooking again, that it can be difficult to tell if they are just being children or if I need to work on my skills as a cook. I made a couple of puff pastry tarts. One with pesto, zucchini, tomatoes, and a bit of cheese to hold it all together. The other had layers of prosciutto, and tomato. Senor Onion objected to the existence of tomato and zucchini. I also made a pretty zippy bean salad with a balsamic syrup (the syrup which I made not too long ago.) Senor Onion liked the beans but found the roasted pepper to be some kind of vicious joke. Miss Biscuit cried and wept, "I am NOT having any pudding tonight. I shall only sip my milk." Then she spent much of the meal upside down. Children, I don't think you will be invited to any of Nan Kempner's Sunday night spaghetti dinners at the rate you are going. Mr. Jenner enjoyed dinner. He was even polite about the bean salad. (he isn't a fan of beans but he loves his wife and would probably eat maple walnut ice cream for pudding every night for three months and still be a good sport.)
Oh well it's my own fault, letting the children eat peanut butter at 4 in the afternoon because everyone was cheering for peanut butter like they were rare eggs in post war ration era England.
After the children go to bed, I am going to eat some of those chocolate chip cookies we made. They will be delicious.
