Eat this, not that.

Stop hitting the side of your computer monitor.* There's nothing wrong with the contrast or brightness. These cookies are actually green and by no error on my part. I came across the recipe for these cranberry pistachio pudding cookies on one of my favorite recipe blogs, Siriously Delicious. Previous to this discovery, I didn't know pistachio instant pudding existed. Had I known about it, it would have been one of those foods I held my purse extra tight around in the grocery store.

Sketchy and oddly colored as it looks, pistachio pudding does a cookie good. In the words of my favorite food blogger, Lady J of Delirious Kitchen, the cookies are amazeballs. This is an awesomely easy recipe to make, too. Get the pistachio pudding mix at Target for 0.87 cents, a bag of dried cranberries from Trader Joe's or start pilfering Craisins from the salad bar for a few days, and I'll bet you already have most of the other ingredients. Just watch your wallet around that pistachio pudding.

On a related note, I have terrible luck when it comes to bringing baked goods to parties. For the last two years in a row, it's been like pulling teeth to get anyone to eat what I bring. The first year I went to my department holiday party, I brought a cinnamon apple bundt cake. I even glazed that sucker. It was pristine looking. Throughout the party, I casually walked by the dessert table to check on how my cake was doing. No. One. Touched. It. Why? I have no idea. Tricia Gail said people were too afraid to cut a slice because the wreath of cake was so pretty. Man up, colleagues.

Last year, I brought cupcakes to the department party. I blame my recent interaction with the sidewalk on not being able to remember what kind they were. I just know it took an embarrassing amount of time for these treats to be consumed, too. My supervisor's son was seen sneaking a few off into his room. Apparently, that's the kind of dessert I make, the one that deserves to be hidden away and eaten in private.

Rosie B's Halloween party gave me hope. I made a variation of Lady J's caramel apple cider cookies for this occasion and they were a hit. The first time I took my "Is-anyone-eating-what-I-made?" walk, a considerable amount of these gems were gone. Sure, they were pretty-pretty good; however, I think the success rate might have had something to do with my being dressed as a maid. No one likes to insult the help.

This year, I'm going to do things differently. The host of this year's department party, Shauna B, isn't aware of it yet, but I am going to walk my cookies on a tray around her home like someone who works for a catering company until said confections are completely devoured. Sure, I may get some used napkins to throw away, or requests to refill a beverage, but I'll be happy in my heart of sketchy-cranberry-pistachio-pudding-cookie-loving hearts that this dessert was enjoyed. If this strategy doesn't work, I will summon my fifth grade basketball skills and set a pic on the guests who attempt to eat any other dessert. Don't make me roll. I'll do it.


*Yes, readers, I'm aware I'm a member of a dying breed who still works at a desktop computer. Just call me Getwiththetimes-o-saurus.

Have a lovely, sketchy-ingredient-filled weekend,
-L

P.S.
This has been a week of wonderful running. Steph therabbit B and I will attempt to run another Super 8 tomorrow afternoon, before the party. Thank you to Mama Stud, Dr. Martinez, Steph B, and Shauna B for being truly awesome, positive, and wonderful workout friends, all week. <3

Things I Love Thursday

Below is a list of things I love from my job, my closet, my fridge, and my Thursday, December 8th.

Disclaimer: Since I am blogging from bed, I must channel my baseball-story telling substitute, Mrs. Strazza, and ask you to "use the television set in your brain" because this post contains no pictures.

Beginning my day with extra big hair (c/o the ol' go-to-sleep-with-your-hair-wet trick) and a multigrain bagel (c/o Dunkin Donuts).

Listening to one of my verbose volleyball players describe my substitute, "She had long hair. She wasn't young, but she was older than you. She ran out of passes. So I had to ask a hall monitor for passes. The hall monitor thought I was going to steal them. I wouldn't do that, I take honors classes. Don't be out anymore."

Learning that one of my favorite former students kicked serious tail on his report card. His mom hung it on their fridge. (Tail kicking report card c/o Tricia Gail.)

Receiving ridiculous compliments from my students after I told them about my meet and greet with the sidewalk on Sunday: "Don't you worry, you've still got it!" or "You can't even see it with your really long bangs!"

Running to break up a fight with Moira K and discovering Tricia Gail right smack in the middle of it; taking care of business. Later I learned she tried to avoid it, but, in her words, "got sucked in kind of like a parade going by." Scrapper.

Learning and using new word mash-ups like: Breakfast for dinner=Brinner. Angry because I'm hungry=Hangry. Shauna came up with a great one that means: You're tiny and cute, but your brain functioning is similar to that of an hor douerve's. Ask her about it.

Running 8 miles with Steph B for the first time ever. I know, we're kind of a big deal. She puts the B in BEAST.

A sundried tomato, spinach, and pecorino romano omelette that was responsible for using up the eggs in my fridge before they went bad. Food guilt: avoided.

Having a WWMW (What Would Matt Wear) moment of panic. Fear not, it was resolved with nautical stripes and a Pendleton scarf.

A tail-kicking parking spot in Princeton.

Sweatpants Trousers: When you come in from a Thursdate with yourself at Panera, you're only one outfit-component change away from pajamas.

Looking forward to re-celebrating the nuptials of B&K on Saturday with some true lovelies.

Was your Thursday lovable? Tell me about it,
L

Click. Clack. Bleed.

 

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
-Ernest Hemmingway

Tolkien's was a beast. Hemmingway referred to his as an automatic weapon.  Woody Allen may or may not have gotten his tongue caught in his. Cormac McCarthy resold his for $254,000. Steinbeck's was second fiddle to a seashell ashtray and a pencil. Enjoy Benjamin Law's Typewriters and the Men Who Love Them.

6th and Willow Smith: The Weekend in Matt-iple Snaps

On Saturday, Matt had a holiday party.

On Sunday, Tricia Gail had a Crafternoon.

On Sunday night, I fell on my face.

 

For better or for dirty sock camera cases, Dan's in. <3

Matt's box.

"Why, yes, I did steal my shirt from a Vegas showgirl."

Laura upstaging Kevin, again.

The first of many Willow Smith hair-whip shots.

Shield your eyes, kids.

Matt is immure to the hair-whip.

Wait, no he isn't.

Pre-sunglasses maul.

The Girl with the Plunging Neckline who stole Christmas.

It will be mine.

Hi, I'm Maya. I'm beautiful.

Hopefully you've formed a steadfast friendship with Shauna, Stacy, Tricia Gail, Steph B, and me before the holidays. If you didn't you won't get any of this bark. If you did, you might.

Happy Holidays! -Tricia Gail's light fixture.

I'm dumb. Don't run at night. Plainsboro, fix your sidewalks.

 Party in Hoboken with friends and Crafternoon with the Ladies SB make for a pretty great weekend. A trip to the ER Sunday night wasn't exactly how I planned to cap it all off. I owe some folks a sincere thank you:

Betty & The GOAT: Having a clumsy and foolish kid is certainly an 18+ year commitment and these two understand that more than any other parents I've met. Yes Betty, I know you told me so. <3
Ant: Thanks for still thinking I'm cute even though I look like I lost a fight with Joe Frazier.
Steph B: Your prayers, copies, and checking in on me texts are immensely appreciated. Yes, we are still running on Thursday, just not at night.

Big thank-yous to all my wonderfuls<3,
L