a few small things
Tonight I made whoopie pies. I’ve never had a whoopie pie (until tonight, that is). I made dark chocolate cookie-cakes and filled them with mocha buttercream. Can I just say that I suck at making frosting? First of all, unless it’s cream cheese frosting (which I should have made), I am not a fan of frosting. Second, because of this, I have no idea how frosting should taste. It always tastes too sweet, too one-note, too buttery. It’s yucky. The bitterness of coffee helps only slightly. Still, when sandwiched between two not-overly-sweet dark chocolate cupcake tops, it’s not too bad. Pretty good. Would be better rolled in crushed Heath bars, except that I left the Heath bars out and it’s suddenly hot here, and when I tried to use the rolling pin on them to crush them, they merely smooshed out and flattened. It was anticlimactic. Still, people will like them.
- Tomorrow I am going to the beach to see some family. My beloved aunt-who-really-isn’t-my-aunt (although who says marriage makes an aunt? She’s been with my uncle for over 20 years. She’s my aunt.), her daughter, my uncle, maybe some cousins? I don’t know who all will be there, but they’ll get whoopie pies! I was instructed to bring something “fun to eat.” Anything that has “whoopie” in the title has to be fun, right?
- Terri can’t come. She is too sick. This bums me out, pretty badly. Most of the time I just sort of soldier on and make do and make the best of it and don’t give in to feeling sad and bad and bummed, but I would really prefer that she were able to come with me tomorrow. It would be fun. Beach. Family. Picnic. Kids. My partner. But, no. CFS/ME sucks. Not even whoopie pies help make it better, since Terri can’t eat sugar. Seriously, no sugar?! As if being sick all the time weren’t bad enough. If you know someone with a chronic illness, go visit. Even for a few minutes. Keep trying. Just because they can’t have visitors one day, doesn’t mean they can’t see you the next, or the next, or the next. Please make the effort, if someone you love is ill. I kick myself for not visiting my grandmother, ill for a long, long time, more often (and now she’s gone). I absolutely kick myself.
- (pulling up bootstraps, getting off soapbox) In other news, it’s hot. All of a sudden. Muggy. Icky. All the plastic that I sealed up our drafty windows with has turned our apartment into a hotbox. Guess what I’ll be taking down this weekend!
- We are addicted to Angry Birds (on iPod Touches). It’s bad. Damn those piggies!