Back in the Saddle Again

I got a text message from my Elizabeth on Saturday night selling me on running a half marathon with her. I thought, "Maybe...if I have time to train...." and then the next morning I had an email waiting for me with the details. It's in May 2010.  So that means I have time to think about it, think about it some more, and then work up to it in a semi-frenzied state, but it will be worth it because I'm 99% sure that Sarah will run it too.  Fer CUTE!  3 Eatons wielding their limbs.  Together.  Pronounce that last word however you you wish to make it resonate with the most resonance. 

I suppose that means that at some point in the next 9 months I will start running plural miles.

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I picked up a book last week all about the wonderful department of Cookie.  Martha Stewart's very own cookie world is now my oyster.

I tried to make 2 of my new cookies last Sunday.  Jeff helped and is quite the knowledgeable kitchener.  One, I am most sorry to say, was a flop.  Sometimes I like to decide what really is a necessary ingredient and what isn't.  Sometimes it asks for 3 ounces of almond paste and I can't find it at the grocery store anywhere so I say, "Whatever, forget it."  Sometimes I don't have a Cuisin-Art so "finely ground" almonds and pecans become "chopped as small as I can chop them."  And sometimes the German Christmas cookies fondly known as "Lebkuchen" turn out to be, as Jeff Brown called them, "Almond Crepes."  Sometimes I have conversations that end with me saying defensively, "I can cook anything!  Just...when I follow the directions!"

The Surprise Cookies, I'm proud to say, were every bit as artery cloggingly delicious as I'd hoped.  

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My bangs are back.  I missed them so!  But unless you've seen my bad se'f since Friday, you wouldn't be privy to this fact.  Because I have become a lazy git who cares not for taking photographs.  Maybe it's an August thing.  I'll get back on the wagon.  Anyway, it was just as it always is: totally a dream to get an hour to chat with Madam Natalie Dulaney, champion of the heads of hair, and totally awesome to be spiffed.  

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I think the I am Legend zombies are far enough away from my mind now to allow sleep to come to me before 1am.  But you know, Will Smith is an idiot; he did not have to be a martyr.  He could have chucked the grenade at the zombies and then fit in the vault with the vaccine or antidote or whatever you'd wish to call it.