I’m pretty aware of which fashion trends I can pull off and which I can’t. That being said, I’m certainly not immune to lusting after things I’m 99% sure would look terrible on me. Right now, for reasons I can’t explain, I’m fixated on a leopard print coat. Actually, I can explain the reasons. They’re called these pictures.
It’s like an automatic way to be the baddest bitch in the room. My boyfriend, for the record, would hate this look, but show me a straight man who likes leopard print and you’ll be showing me a mirage because they don’t exist.
Modcloth is selling a nice looking, reasonably affordable leopard coat that, who knows, I might cough up the shekels to buy after the holidays. With my black feather hat, I think I might be edging into “weird old lady” territory.
True story: Blue Christmas is one of my favorite Christmas songs. Is it the most depressing Christmas song? Of course it is. I can’t help it. Also good: the Elvis version.
As I discovered recently, I kind of have a crush on young Bruce Springsteen. Nothing against old (or, I guess, “regular”) Bruce Springsteen, but young Bruce Springsteen was really bringing his misunderstood, working-class, flannel-wearing A-game.
When was this picture taken? Was it yesterday? I can’t even handle it. Actually, I can’t even tell if I think he’s cute or if I just want that outfit for myself.
Who does he think he is, Jess Mariano?
Everyone knows (or should know) that “white t-shirt” is the best look on a dude. Bruce knows.
Like a better looking Cat Stevens. Once again, do I just want this jacket? Maybe.
Not sure how I feel about this. I’m conflicted.
I’m going to make a calendar called “Cars and Bruce Springsteen.” Every month will be a picture of Bruce Springsteen leaning against the hood of a car.
I should admit to you that Born to Run is one of my favorite songs of all time. What can I say, I’m from a small town. It speaks to me!
Is there anyone between the ages of 20 and 40 who doesn’t adore the Home Alone/Home Alone 2 soundtracks? I should hope not! This Christmas season, I’ve had so many conversations that included the sentence, “This is just like Home Alone!” Those two films are the classics of our time, and films that could probably never be made today for lots of reasons. Air travel is clearly a different situation now. Also, do studios still make movies about families who are insanely rich? The McCallister house was bananas! In May, it was up for sale…for 2.4 million.
I have a lot of fears. Knitting, for one. Do you know how many years I’ve had “learn to knit something other than a scarf” on my goal list? I don’t know either. I’ve lost track, and yet I still only know garter stitch. Remember that time I was afraid of pie crust? Similarly, I have a longstanding fear of yeast. So many times in my life, I’ve attempted to make french bread, rolls, or a pizza crust, only to have the dough remain a tiny, tough lump. For the life of me, I could not get that damn yeast to activate. In general, I don’t like any food that’s fickle; I stay away from desserts that can’t be made on humid days, or anything you need a candy themometer to make. So even though I’ve been craving cinnamon rolls for weeks, making them never even crossed my mind. I looked up places to buy them. I found recipes that didn’t involve yeast. And then, finally, it hit me like a ton of flour, sugar, and butter: why didn’t I just make them myself? What was I afraid of? A fear of yeast, just like a fear of knitting or pie crust, isn’t a real fear. I mean, it’s not like cults or serial killers, both of which pose a real and persistent danger to all of us daily. The worst that can happen with a pie crust is that it turns out to be not so good, and it would take a real effort to harm yourself with a blunt knitting needle. So what was I so afraid of when it came to cinnamon rolls? Was I afraid of failure? Was I afraid of trying? Was I just afraid of hard work?
Probably the latter.
So this morning, armed with my trusted Betty Crocker recipe, I tackled cinnamon rolls. The recipe in my book was very similar to this one, although the filling involved brown sugar instead of regular sugar. Also, I did not include raisins or nuts.
Guess what, guys? They actually turned into cinnamon rolls! When I saw that the dough had risen, meaning that the yeast activated, I gasped.
They were delicious, but truthfully, they were also a pain in the ass. Cinnamon rolls are time consuming and involve two rising sessions. Cinnamon rolls: the divas of baked goods. Also, you do not need to add near that much flour. I think, in total, I had less than 3 cups in there. I’d recommend making them, but save them for a morning you have a lot of time on your hands. Or maybe just make them when you’re stressed out, because kneading was surprisingly cathartic. These cinnamon rolls absorbed my frustrations.
H. ate two! They got his seal of approval, but that’s coming from a guy who once told me he prefers Pillsbury cinnamon rolls from a tube to homemade, so I’m not sure what that means.