Lemon Bundt Cake & Other Holiday Horrors

Blair walked in the door last night with a lemon bundt cake from a co-worker that weighs about 10 pounds but tastes as light as air. 

Say what you will about CPA's and accountants, these people know how to put the hurt on some baking. For the next two weeks our home will fill with cakes, drop cookies, slices of pie, fudge, peanut brittle, peppermint bark, coconut macaroons, and on and on and on. One woman he's worked with for years always sends home a bag of assorted baked goods--the kind that call for crisco and butter. She makes these peanut-butter balls that are so good they make you want to smack your momma. One year she didn't include them. I told Blair to go back and tell her that HER JOB WAS ON THE LINE if she didn't hustle up some peanut butter balls for the bosses wife. (I don't think he took my advice. But he did tell her I missed them and the next year she sent me a HUGE batch of them. Lovely woman.)

The problem with these gifts is two-fold:

1.  Blair doesn't have much of a sweet tooth. So guess who consumes a majority of the food?
2. He brings these trays of food home and then leaves me alone with them! All day alone in a house with a lemon bundt cake, as I am today, is an exercise in torture and self-denial. (An exercise I am flunking as it's not even 8 am and I've already had my first slice of cake. So good....)

I also feel we should reciprocate. "Should we send baked goods to the office?" I asked Blair. "Do you want me to bake some vegan cookies?"

I think it's rude when he just ignores me like that. 

No matter. I'll console myself with bundt cake. Tis the season to get fat. 

Cheers,

Dena

Tis the Season To Make Lists

The year is drawing to its close. I can tell because I have the insatiable urge to start making lists. For what, I don't care. As long as I can use bullet points, sub-headings, and call-outs, I'm a happy camper.

It's all I can do to not drop everything and begin outlining exercise goals and runs for the New Year as well as chart a running regime. Then there's cooking - I have lists of healthy soups and receipes I want to make (if I don't start using that VitaMix blender I insisted I had to have, I'll need to start a list on various ways to say, "I'm sorry, you were right" to a spouse--and no one wants to see that happen). I have lists in my head of writing projects to complete, lists on how much $$ I need to make in the New Year and how to go about achieving that, lists of volunteer work I'd like to see me do, lists of major repair/renovation projects for the house, and the mother of them ALL - the NEW YEAR RESOLUTION LIST. Ooh--I get chills just thinking about it.

Dear Santa - All I want for Christmas is a white board, office organizer, and pretty markers with which I can slash off "completed" bullet points on my lists. I've been very pretty reasonably good this year, so please come through for me.

Love,

Dena