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    Valenti Day

    February 17, 2010 by NaysWay · Leave a Comment 

    BFam and I aren’t big on Valentine’s Day. You’d figure someone as heartwarmingly loving toward Christmas as I am, would have a greater fondness of the holiday for lovers.

    Then you’ll realize I just hurled because I said “lovers”. And now I feel all dirty. Thanks a lot.

    So surprise when Mooter, the anti-me, had herself a little countdown for the day. I could have easily sat her down and explained to her the falsehoods and sheer idiocy behind such a farse, but I am constantly reminding myself that she’s eight. And I am an old, bitter thirty two-year-old.

    Feh.

    And when you’re as wide-eyed and bushy tailed as my endearing, bleeding heart daughter, you get things like this:

    Valenti Day

    Then you feel like this:


    So, you know. There’s that.

    To show my allegiance to the can’t-beat-’em-join-’em brigade, I did things for my daughters (and husband) I am not proud of.

    Valenti Day
    I baked.

    What’s the big deal, you say? If you knew me, you’d know this is an extremely big deal. I don’t bake. I don’t cook. Not to say that I can’t. I can. I’m not too shabby at either. Even better, I love food. I think it’s comforting and sentimental and elevating. Yes, I’m still talking about food. But the work. The slaving. The heat of the stove. The standing. The gnashing of teeth. It’s too much. It’s enough to disprove my love of food.

    Then I saw a recipe that spoke to me.

    Valenti Day
    Lucky for my children, it spoke to them, too.

    Valenti Day
    Oh. Oh, my word.

    Valenti Day
    This is… oh.

    Valenti Day
    I feel so dirty. This is not fit for little people. Cover their eyes.

    Valenti Day
    The eating of the cupcake should have been outlawed in several states.

    Valenti Day
    I’m not a foodblogger. The thought of cooking alone sends me into fits of rage. I couldn’t imagine mustering enough patience sitting through shot after shot after shot after shot of the cooking. And the raging. Oh, the raging. It wouldn’t be pretty. And no one would follow it because I’d be too busy cursing and throwing things. God bless those who do it and do it well, but…

    It ain’t me.

    [The recipe that spoke to me: Life By Chocolate from The Pioneer Woman]

    Valenti Day

    Filed under living2 · Tagged with can i cook it, foodie

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