WINTER~ He “doesn’t kiss me on the mouth anymore because it’s too intimate than [he] thinks we should get" (Halsey). This season is frigid and bitter. You want him— no, you want someone. Someone special, but someone none the less. You long for someone to: keep you warm, keep your secrets, and ultimately, keep you. You put your heart into a promising prospect but wouldn’t you know, he’s unmistakably in another season. You turn down offers for shallow flings and you turn down the lights earlier and earlier each night. All you want is someone to keep you warm and someone you can be comfortable with. "Sweatpants, hair tied, chillin with no makeup on; that's when you're the prettiest I hope that you don't take it wrong" (Drizzy Drake). Well Drake, I'll have you know, I did take it wrong because I got my hopes up. I sent snapchats without makeup (or filters) and I wad vulnerable with him on more than one occasion and it seems like it's more like "I'm just a notch in your bedpost and you're just a line in a song" (Fall Out Boy). This season breeds dependence and loneliness and anything cold- begging for warmth and nurturing. If you can survive through this season, you can survive it through any. But this is the season the sappy love songs and break up list list call home- not mention, many people experience this season around the Christmas, when your emotions match the climate. Since you would give anything for slice of his- someone's love, apple crumble seems most appropriate. With it's warm, cinnamon nature, it surely should do the trick! With the idea of how appealing him beside you would be, peel and slice 6 Granny Smith apples into a bowl. Add 2 tablespoons of lemon juice, 1/4 cup of brown sugar, 1/2 cup of granulated sugar, and 3 pats of butter (equivalent to 3 handsome tablespoons). Put this in a pie dish which would hold the Cutie Pie you wish you had... In same bowl used to mix apples and sugar, combined 1 1/2 cup of old-fashioned (chivalrous and all) oats, 1 tablespoon of cinnamon, 3/4 cup dried cranberries, 5 tablespoons of room-temp butter and 2 teaspoons of vanilla. Once combined, sprinkle over apples. Put in oven heated to 350 for approximately 45 minutes.
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SUMMER Lovin~ The opening scene of “Grease” is the perfect depiction of this season: “Had me a blast; happened so fast.” You want something that heightens your sense and leaves you with the summer love euphoria but long-term is no where in the forefront of your mind and you would never mislead one of these guys that commitment is in your intentions. You know very well you’ll be left with sand in your bed and photographs on your floor boards and actually, you’re okay with that.
Someone to invite you on his boat; Feature him in a pic just to gloat. Someone to soak up a little sun; No worry of standards, all in good fun. Put down your bag and stuff in the sand. Catch waves and a few numbers in hand. Hit a few bars right off the shore. A couple laughs and thinks he's yours. Maybe find a pool party for a splash Catch a new one, just swimming past. Sunset and barefeet in the grass, Breaks out a guitar to win that ass. Or hit up the lake house, legs off the pier Arm around you while killing a beer. He doesn't live here but why stop now Said you're his favorite part of this town. Stumble upon live music and you can't help but dance. Cuteness taps you on the shoulder so you give him a chance. It's a summer of foul balls so you hit the ballpark Find new lips with a backdrop of fireworks Festivals are perfect for attractive strangers Your heart is absent so no there's no danger. It's evident to any outsider that most summer flings are missing something. This Ho-Ho Hostess Cake Recipe parallels that. Below are the ingredients for the frosting and "where's the cream filing" but... the real question should be, where's the cake?
“I thought I loved you, but it’s just how you looked in the light” (Fall Out Boy). It’s funny how much timing affects a situation:
Libby's Pumpkin Roll Recipe is perfect for this season. This is especially true in the world of actively seeking a significant other. I won’t say soulmate, because that ship has certainly sunk. Timing of where you are in your life when embarking on the adventure that is dating, undeniably effects the outcome of each and every dating attempt. At this time, what are your intentions? What were your intention this time last year? Or, in my case, what were my intentions 3 ½ months ago? I’m not ashamed to admit that in the 1 ½ I’ve been consecutively dating, my intentions change like the weather. “Phases” isn’t really the way to describe it because the intentions are affected by sometimes the specific guy or my geographical plan. Am I going to be out of town a lot this month or, better yet, am I going to pack my life and move to beach? The most suiting way to describe these shifts in intentions is dating seasons. FALL~ Football, the aroma of pumpkin EVERYTHING, and the anticipation of the holidays… this is the perfect season to “fall” for someone— possibly plural. Fall for the lines that, in any other season, you’d spike like a club volleyball player rocking those short spandex shorts. Fall for his ploy to get you to stay out longer and drink more. Fall for the cuddling invitations even the temperature still sits in the high 60’s. Fall for the plans he dangles over you like a pumpkin spice latte over a basic white girl with an empty bank account. Fall without anticipating that you’ll have to catch yourself. Preheat oven to 375, grease a 15 by 10 inch jelly roll pan and line with wax paper. Sprinkle powdered sugar on a cotton kitchen towel. Then combined what's a cup of flour, half a teaspoon of baking soda and powder, cinnamon,and ground cloves, and a forth teaspoon of salt. Mix in a cup of sugar, 3 eggs, two thirds cup of pumpkin. Then stir in a cup of walnuts. Pour into prepared jelly pan, tis a shame your heart can't be as prepared for break. Bake 14 minutes. Don't flip out he's not falling back, shake it off and shake the pan and flip, pumpkin roll onto powdered kitchen towel. Roll up and set on wire rack. The fall is for chilling out. Beat eight oz cream cheese, a cup of powdered sugar, and two teaspoons of vanilla extract. Unroll cake and spread cream cheese over cake and delicately roll back up. Cover with plastic wrap and chill for an hour. Just like your fall season, sprinkle with powdered sugar. Another bartender… because, when did close-mindedness get you anywhere you wanted to go? He lived over an hour away but was “dying” to meet me. Our schedules were nuts so he drove to my place at midnight on like a Monday. Dedication was my initial thought though skeptics would’ve said desperation. It’s simple; he can’t find a girl in his zip code that will tolerate his flakiness.
Regardless of the skeptics, I was excited because he seemed sweet. While he made the commute, I made the ultimate insomnia breakfast spread: maple bacon, sausage, fiesta egg scramble, OJ (not Simpson and not without pulp- his request), a little Titos to satisfy my Texas-sized quench, and banana nut bread. Now I’m thinking the zip code theory may not have been so off… After feasting, we flirted and laughed the night away. Both of left the house in the morning, work for me, home for him since his bar didn’t open until 2. After exactly two long and flirty phone conversations, he phased out like last year’s latest and greatest gaming system. Randomly, he called me at 3am in weeks to follow and attributed it to his work schedule but no communication efforts were EVER made in daytime hours. Since he was enough of a flake, but he still enjoys making dough by flirting with drunk girls and then uses those tips to get baked on the weekdays, I thought a bread would be most suiting for Mr. Commute. Also, our only date was breakfast that was provided by yours truly, so I’ll share a recipe for banana nut bread since he failed to share much of anything of merit... well, aside from his banana but, my previous statement still stands-- nothing of merit. Cream 1 stick of room temperature butter, 1 cup of sugar, and 1 tsp of vanilla in purest form. Just because pure intentions seem obsolete, doesn't mean you should start baking with immigration anything-- regardless of how much money you save; if the recipe doesn't turn out amazing, are you really saving anything? Then add 1 tsp of baking soda and 2 cups of flour, which is double the amount of sugar, because since his sweetness was short-lived; we will have to create our own sweetness from nature- 3 ripe bananas to be exact. Add 1/2 cup of chopped walnuts because I was nuts enough to allow another bartender in... learning is a process I suppose. Chocolate is like endorphins in chip form so be generous with those, bringing color and life to your batter. Pour this mix into a greased 9X5 loaf pan and bake on 350 for an hour, the distance he lives from you... which is quite convenient for the outcome of this dating attempt because it's not like I'll run into him at the store buying more chocolate chips. Feed me with your wit and things that you've composed;
Things to make me laugh and then take off my clothes. Feed me with your interest, instantly gratify. Operant conditioning, ensure that I comply. Feed me with your silence, a manipulation aid Feed me with the guilt of all tabs you paid. Feed me with your car, the metaphor that you drive Any specimen calculated, which makes you feel alive. Feed me with your eyes as they stared deeply into mine Feed me with your hand, they're warm and intertwine. Feed me with your height as to tower over me Which later is a weapon, your power over me. Feed me with your lust that prayers couldn't make last Feed me with the teasers and ghosts of girlfriends past. Feed me with the thoughts that you so candidly shared. Feed me with the timeline that you've carefully prepared. Date 1, 2, and 3 we will paint the town; But 4 and 5 and 6, I am going down. But you don't feed with the intention to satisfy Cunningly deceive while continuing to pry. Once I've opened up and am as vulnerable as hell You'll feed me with your lips, the mystery you won't tell. But then the feeding stops once I'm ravenous for you Your supply is redirected, found someone else to chew. "Getting the girl" requires strategy. Depending on the girl in pursuit, the strategy level may be comparable to that utilized in a chess match. Words can be pawns, but are more likely the "men" using them. Actions can serve as the knights while bishops are protectors of the heart (whether they be the conscious or the best friend). We can all guess who the king could be. I selected the image of Ronald Weasly in the most riveting, critical game of wizard's chess in his life- or that of any other's life before him. A man with ambition, bravery, and sacrifice is a great portrayal of a king and... he's quite magical.
The queen is the subject in pursuit; beautiful and delicate, she has more than a few sacrificing themselves for her. The setting of this match is also significant because of the traditional colors: black and white. This the illusion that things, dating in this instance, are simply, black and white but in reality, nothing could be further from the truth. Well, in this particular mind game, the two pawns, square in nature were on each side of my best friend. The one on her left was moving one square to the right, awaiting her move, and then cautiously moving one space left. The pawn on her right side however is the real piece, literally. Looking hungrily at my best friend, the queen, he muttered something under his breath loud enough for two neighbors to hear. Naturally, I chimed in as my role as the bishop AKA best friend. As bishop, I stepped one step to the right requesting information of this other pawn. “Oh… I know that guy.” Focusing on his eyes, I projected over the clatter of the hurricane glasses from behind the bar, “And?” But I played right into his trap. He delivered this simple speech about the shallow characteristics of this pawn on the left wooing the queen. He proceeded forward, knocking the bishop and my guard off the board. He submerged himself in the conversation with the queen, stealing it from the left pawn. A couple laughs and her attention was all his. Closing came quickly like a novice losing all of their pieces in a matter of 6 or 7 moves. The pawn followed the queen outside while “drunkenly” slinging his arm around her shoulder. I say drunkenly with quotations because just a minute ago, he was standing straight with determination and hunger in his brown eyes. This move, removed several other pawns from the board since he was claiming some sort of ownership by holding her, directing her, with dominance in his mind. Pawns must remember, never underestimate the queen. Never ever. He slyly, or so he thought, kissed her in the 45 degree street and advanced two moves with his proposition. I couldn’t hear his words but her response was something I’ll never forget. Looking up at the queen, anticipating her next move she screamed, “Are you kidding? I’m not fucking you! Isn’t that just great! This [pawn] after making advances for not more than 10 minutes, not offering me a drink or his jacket in this bitter cold thinks he can just say, ‘wanna fuck?’ Guhhhh!” The street’s attention was on the queen. No chess match has been won with so much noise before, it’s usually a game of concentration and silence. The pawn, sheepishly fled from the board game and needed to be replaced for the next match. While the street still seemed stirred, the queen parted the sea of drunk bystanders as she opened the door to her Uber, bringing her bishop with her. Game, set, match. Bring your game for Grandma's Chess Pie. Don't let the homemade pies and crochet needles fool you, grandma is still queen. Preheat oven to 425. Grab your favorite crust, it could be grandma's or Pillsbury’s, but don't poke the Doughboy whatever you do you might make him angry or make him make advances you're not ready for. He does after all have a lot of Joe. Arrange crust in the bottom of a pie pan and a wash the rim period and egg wash is simply beaten egg with a splash of water such a pain is almost brush to give a golden flaky color once baked. The outcome will be as flaky these guys or pawns I should say. Mix 1 stick of room temperature butter, 2 C sugar, and 1 tsp vanilla together. This much sugar is required due to the lack of sweetness carried by everyday pawns. Mix in 4 eggs, then stir in 1 Tbs of cornmeal, 1/4 C of evaporated milk, and 1 Tbs of vinegar until smooth, like pawns strive to be. These ingredients also underestimate the queen, whom is hot in nature and will bake them for 10 minutes, then, when they think they have figured out her game, she will reduce the heat to 300 and continue grilling them for 40 minutes. This is more than enough time for her advancements or retreats to knock every pawn off the board. This recipe and picture was brought to you by http://allrecipes.com/recipe/9090/chess-pie/ There's an old wise tale somewhere that says the way you start out the New Year sets precedence for the entire year. Maybe that's the reason there's so much pressure put on New Year's resolutions and having the perfect plans for New Year's Eve. Going to the most exclusive party, buying the VIP package, having the most perfect dress, setting your hair to shine and your eyes sparkle and having that legendary, but at the same time overly cliche midnight kiss.
This makes me question this tired, not -so eagerly expected tradition. Firstly, how do we even know the person that told this tale originally was even wise? What are their credentials? Were they just a guru when it came to matters of the heart? I would like to see their resume and possibly dating history. Secondly, how does one day of a total a 365 determine the mood of the remaining 364? Does that take into account the weather? The economy? The location you are in each of those days? Job status? Relationship status? Annual physical results? Pregnancy results? And lastly, how does kissing a complete stranger set the year off on a great foot? So that means your year will be full of nameless faces who survived natural selection solely based on looks, quick wit, and severe intoxication? I'd rather just set something on fire that Sparkles back and hopes that I can overcome even more than I did in this last taxing year. A bad day can happen anytime in the long year. Could be in any of the Four Seasons, could be in any state (of mind or geographically), could be with any person, or could be under any influence. 2011, for example, started with being dumped at a party in which I knew no one accept my friend who spend the night in a closet with her boyfriend. Both of us intoxicated, we couldn't go anywhere. Feeling trapped and lonely all the same time I made the most of the party and ended up talking until 8 in the morning with the party's host. We're still friends to this day. So a bad day is what you make it. I don't think this one instance dampens the rest of 2011.... to be honest, I don't really remember any specifications of the rest of that year, but I survived! |
AuthorChef Steph cooking up trouble. If she can't find anything real, she bakes real good sweets. Chocolate really may mend a broken heart... Archives
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