21 May, 2011

Spaghetti and bookishness.

So, it's eleven at night. I should be asleep. This, of course, means I'm blogging instead.

Sleep and I aren't the fast friends we used to be. We're in a bit of a dry spell. Where I used to rush headlong into the waiting arms of Hypnos, now he and I hesitantly circle each other like junior high kids at a school dance.

I am referring, of course, to the necessary evil of sleeping on my side. It hurts. My hips hate me. If I were physically able to ignore the severe discomfort of sleeping on my stomach as I used to so enjoy, I'd be constantly aware that I was squishing the baby. On occasion, I wake up with a start in the night lying flat on my back. This leads to the panic of "I've cut off my superior vena cava and JB will be born retarded!!!"... Hey, you can laugh, but my darker imagination is taking over these days. I'm certain that every little twinge down below means that something's terribly wrong, and today while standing on a chair changing a lightbulb, I couldn't help but ask The Mimi, "What would you do if I fainted and fell?" She looked up at me with a start and said she'd call an ambulance, then asked me what I'd do if she fainted. *lol* We make good housemates.

Speaking of today's chair climbing activities, that was a momentary break in the hours of cooking and baking I embarked upon this afternoon. One of The Mimi's friends had a sad thing happen this week, so she decided to send over a home cooked meal (cue Gabs to Apron Patrol). I called my mother to ask her for her recipe for chicken spaghetti, and after possibly the third wistful sigh and comment about how much she'd like to eat said spaghetti, I offered to do enough for her house too. The offer was jumped upon with slightly appalling speed... *grin* So, I made enough for two families plus leftovers, to be accompanied by a french loaf and salad.

Before I could start on the pasta, I had to make inroads into the famous chocolate cake recipe our family only trots out for seriously special occasions (because it's a pain in the ass to make). Tomorrow being the Mater's birthday, I figured that was special enough and rolled up my sleeves. You know, it's remarkable how much easier baking is with a Kitchenaid mixer. That's right, folks, The Mimi has a Kitchenaid. What's more, it's vintage. And avocado green. *sigh* I die. Anyway, it's fab, and made the pain in the derriere cake more of a flirtatious pinch. This attempt turned out much better than my last go, attempted for a friend's birthday, probably because all our legacy recipes are in American measurements and brands, and can be difficult to reproduce at home. Let's hope she appreciates my devotion and love (because, you see, I love her more than the rest of her kids, that's why I'm her favourite). *grin*

After I'd cleaned up most of the detritus from three hours in the kitchen, I had a very nice bath, some dinner, and then realised that I hadn't sorted out JB's baby book yet. Now, while I realise this might sound odd as he's got some time yet to bake (we don't want a runny baby, that skewer has to come out clean) I needed it sorted for tomorrow's festivities. Not only are we having the final wedding shower for my cousin, the family decided to add a baby shower for yours truly, PLUS it's the Madre's birthday. Big day. I need the book ready to take signatures of everybody in attendance, because JB might be offended in later life if I don't record every single thing leading up to his arrival... right? Okay, maybe it's more for me and my atrocious memory, but I'm blaming it on JB. Sorry, little dude. So, I cut, arranged and glued to my heart's content, and I think I've got a pretty decent start on my first foray into scrapbooking. Let's hope Himself agrees, as we've discussed it over the phone but he hasn't actually seen the papers I chose to back the memories...

Okay, I see Hypnos edging toward my group of friends, trying to pretend he's only looking at the posters on the wall. Let's see if they play any BoyzIIMen.

2 comments:

  1. Hahahaha you and Hypnos. Hot date.

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  2. You are NOT her favorite... you just suck up well. :-p

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