I really need to learn not to go all out of control with my baking. I love baking, but was it strictly necessary to bake two mango cream pies, a loaf of cinnamon bread, and a pan of coconut-pecan bars, all this weekend? Especially when I’ll be away from home for most of the week, so I really have to eat all this stuff right away or risk it going bad while I’m gone? At least Len will be here to cat-sit, and I have hope that he will polish off some of the pie. But still, I should learn to time these things better.

That said, these coconut-pecan things are insanely good. Every so often when I’m perusing my Joy of Cooking looking for something new to bake, I look at this recipe but I never actually make it because they’re called “Angel Bars” with the alternate name “Dream Bars,” which is so twee I can barely type it. But this weekend I decided to give them a try, because I am always on the lookout for recipe that will be fun for me to bake, and tasty for me to eat, without being so chocolatey that Len won’t like it. (Which sounds all thoughtful and considerate of his preferences, but really it’s just that I need him to like what I bake because otherwise I will eat it all myself and get really ill.) They are so good. I want to live on them, although first I would like to tinker with the recipe a little because the bottom layer came out too crumbly.

So that’s what I did all weekend. I baked and then I baked and then I baked some more. There was also some errand-running, but it mostly involved hunting down groceries and appliances to be used in my baking process, or Len’s curry-cooking process. I guess we did buy a snow shovel which had nothing to do with food preparation, but that involved a harrowing and soul-crushing trip to Target and I’m trying to block out the whole experience. Last night there was a bit of socializing as the curry and pie were eaten, but I was very tired and I think not much company. Though on the way home I did get into a spirited discussion with Mo and Anna as we tried to plan a New Year’s Eve party.  I’m convinced that for the first New Year’s Eve I spent with Len, we went to a party at Mo’s house. But Mo swears he was in Maine that year. I wonder if it’s possible that there was a party at his house for which he was not actually present? I suppose with Mo nothing is impossible.

The question remains unresolved, but I was amused to note that we all count our years by such means as “The Year I Dropped Out Of College” or “The Year I Broke Up With That Jerk” or “The Year I Got That Tattoo I Kind Of Regret.” I’m always in awe of people who actually remember when things happened without having to resort to these involved debates about which stupid things they did in which year.

Tomorrow I’m off to the parental units’ place for a few days. I may commandeer a spare laptop, but it’s more likely that I just won’t update until I get back. Notify list people will probably get an email update or two, if anyone wants to sign up (or remove yourself from the list) over on the left of the main journal page.