WELL, NOW I AM DEPRESSED.
(In unhappier news, WordPress’s new photo uploader sucks. Congratulations on your continued slide toward total unusability, WordPress!)
The winner was chosen at random and thus it is purely a coincidence that I won something from Mary shortly after I linked to her and told you all to go read her blog, but just in case other forces are at work here, have I ever mentioned that Toyota and the Washington State Lottery have really good websites? I’m not just saying that.
At any rate, this is a great book and I’ve already picked out a few recipes that I’m going to use to make Christmas cookies for friends and neighbors, which is something I haven’t done since … let’s see now, never. I’ve never made Christmas cookies for friends and neighbors. (And by “neighbors,” I mean “old man who lives across the alley.” If the rest of the people on my block want cookies, then maybe next year, they’ll rake their leaves out of the storm drain once in a while instead of watching me do it twice a week every week all fall not that I’m annoyed about that or anything.)
In preparation for the Festival of Holiday Baking 2012, I purchased these cookie cutters so I can make ninjabread men:
because it’s not Christmas until someone gets a beat down.
So I have the cookbook, I have the cookie cutters, and yesterday I discovered that I have cream of tartar. Why? No one knows. What I don’t have is butter. I was in the store yesterday and meant to buy a ridiculous amount of butter because (a) cookie-baking and (b) butter was on sale and God knows I love a good sale. But then I got flustered and forgot.
As you may or may not recall, I have contentious relationships with butchers all over this city, with the exception of the butcher at my neighborhood grocery store, whom I refer to as the Billy Idol butcher because of his spiky unnaturally blond hair. You may also recall that I have a little crush on the Billy Idol butcher for reasons having to do with unseasoned ground turkey. It’s a boring story so I won’t tell it again; besides, if you really cared about me, you would remember everything I’ve ever said, even the stuff about my boring dentist. I haven’t seen the Billy Idol butcher for months, so I assumed he’d moved on to a job cattle ranching or at the slaughterhouse or possibly even something non-meat related. And honestly, I was relieved because when I’m around guys I have a little crush on I tend to get extra dull and rude. No, I’ve never married, why do you ask? So, yesterday, I’m in the meat department looking for a package of chicken thighs that contains fewer than 25 chicken thighs because I’m not a wolverine for God’s sake, when I spot the biggest turkey drumstick I’ve ever seen. It was a single drumstick weighing two and a half pounds.
Me: Jeez, look at this turkey drumstick!
Elderly Chinese Man [giving me the side eye]: …
Me: It’s huge!
Elderly Chinese Man [staring at me with open hostility]: …
Me: This is the biggest drumstick I’ve ever seen!
Elderly Chinese Man [walking away]: …
Disembodied Voice: Yep, 30 pound turkey.
Me [continuing to gape at turkey leg]: It looks like a sheep’s leg.
Disembodied Voice: Pterodactyl leg!
Me: GODZILLA L… [turning toward Disembodied Voice, discovering who it belongs to]
OMG THE BILLY IDOL BUTCHER [smiling, quizzical expression on face]: … ?
Me: It’s big. [quickly wheels cart away]
After that, I was too out-of-sorts to remember to buy butter. Oh, damn, I just realized I also forgot to buy chicken.