Here are some snapshots from yesterday:
I decided that obviously a rainy day called for a Sister Act marathon. So far, so good. Especially since the movies come in one convenient package! I wrote graduation notes and continued some wedding crafts while I watched Miss Whoopi sing, dance, and do nun things. Hilarity ensues, of course.
Then I decided to bake.
I found an easy peasy recipe for cinnamon bread, which I thought sounded like a fabulous aroma to fill up my kitchen with for when my man came over later for coffee. I decided to even throw in chocolate chips because, heck, chocolate makes everything better. Not to mention that it's always good news when I start changing recipes.
So into the oven it went, when Ian arrived, which always makes life better. Have I ever told you about this magical ability we have to bring each other out of our deepest funks? It's like we should marry each other or something.
Here's where things get a little fuzzy. For some reason or another, after giving Ian his mug 'o coffee, I was bent over my desk shuffling things around (Looking for something? Organizing my pens and pencils) Either way,I stood up too fast (too much caffeine!), and hit my face on the wall. Yes, hit my face. On the wall. How does that even happen?
So I may or may not have curled up on the couch in the arms of my man and cried like a four year old for a few minutes.
But ah, the cinnamon bread was done! Surely some delicious cinnamon bread could wipe those tears off my throbbing face. But when I pulled it out of the oven, it looked a little....flat. After cutting a piece, the loaf brought back images of high school cooking class where the teacher showed us how quick bread is not supposed to look.
Flat 'n crumby. Mmmmmm.
And here's the kicker: it tasted even worse than it looked!
And I forgot to put the chocolate chips in.
(Chocolate is what would have saved it, I'm sure.)
So what does a girl with a bruised face, fail bread, and an appetite the size of China do?