That’s what I’m doing.  I’ve got a lot to talk about today.  It’s going to get crazy, and I hope that’s ok.  We’re at the point in our relationship where I’m allowed to tell you I’m about to get crazy and you’ll still stick around for it, right?

Checks web analytics to find that the average time on site just plummeted to the 3.7 seconds it takes the average reader to skim the above paragraph.  Oh well…

First, let’s talk about the sporkful.  It’s my latest obsession, which makes sense since it’s all about food obsessions.  Have you noticed I have some of those?  Oh.  Well, yes.  I do.  It’s like this: these two fantastic guys named Mark and Dan talk about food.  They also argue.  It reminds me a little of me and my boyfriend.  Ok.  It reminds me a lot of me and my boyfriend.  I listen to it while I work out, and it makes the cardio not suck.  For serious.  Think about it.  Start with the episode with Robert Krulwich (episode 19) because Robert is from RadioLab and that makes him awesome.  Or does he make RadioLab awesome?  I can never quite figure it out.

Now let’s talk about neighbors and how mine are great.  And how mine bail me out of many kitchen misfortunes.  Like when I got halfway through making cornbread before I realized I had no baking powder.  Quite a pickle.  And they were there for me.  Do you know why?  Because I steal all of their ingredients on a fairly regular basis and turn them into something.  And then I take them that something and say thanks.

Here’s a plate of peanut butter cookies.  And your peanut butter.  There’s not really much left.  You probably won’t be able to make a sandwich for your kids lunch tomorrow.  Hope you don’t mind.  :D

Just kidding.  I wouldn’t do that.  Except I totally would.  If I really wanted peanut butter cookies.  And I didn’t have peanut butter.  And walking next door seemed easier than the 10 minute drive to the grocery store.  Except I’m not going to do that right now.  Not this late at night, at least.  That’s just not proper.

But I’ve been feeling kind of bad about how I do that.  I know they don’t mind.  But still.  It’s not very neighborly for me to never go grocery shopping and still insist on cooking as much as I do.

So I decided to embrace my latest food obsession (we’ll talk more about this later), and I made them peach ice cream.  And then I marched next door.  To say hi.  And play with their kids.  And to give them the peach ice cream, of course.  And my neighbor opened the door and tried to keep children and dog from running out.  I awkwardly held out the peach ice cream which she couldn’t possibly take from me because of the aforementioned dog and children.  ”Here’s some peach ice cream.”

“Jenny, you’re out of control.”

And don’t I know it!  My apologies for the rambly-ness of this post.  Ice cream recipes to come.  Many, many ice cream recipes.  Volunteer ice cream eaters can apply in the comments below (because God knows I don’t need to be eating all that I’ve made in the past month).  And answer this for me: if you were a flavor of ice cream, what flavor would you be?

Sometimes, I completely miss things.  Especially when I’m stressed.  And buddy, Friday was stressful.  Way stressful.  So that evening, when I saw a post by GHM, I might have missed it.  I didn’t mean to.  I just kinda didn’t process it all the way.

But it’s Monday now, and I’m processing.  Because there’s a giveaway, duh!  Take yourself over there and enter.  I mean it!

And how I’m a copycat.  And if you don’t know why, go listen to some Joy the Baker.  Advice to live by.  True facts.

But about real life.  Sometimes, I cook with velveeta.  It’s true.

Also, I totally just realized that my boyfriend looks almost exactly like one of my celebrity crushes.  Guesses?  Here’s a hint: he’s a celebrity chef.

But let’s talk about real, real life.  You know, like when you totally freak out because you don’t know what to wear.  Which has never happened to me.  I pretty much never freak out.  Like ever.  That’s a lie.  I always freak out.  Seriously.

And let’s suppose you’re going to an event with a boy.  And it’s like his family’s thing or his friend’s party, and you don’t have enough info to make an informed decision.  Don’t ask him what to wear.  Just don’t.  He won’t be helpful.  This is real life.

So here’s what you do ask him: what shoes will you be wearing?  And he’ll think you’re weird.  But that’s ok because he already invited you to his people’s thing.  He’s into you.  This we know.  Want his people to be into you too?  Ask the darn question.  He’ll reply with one of the following three options:

1. Tennis shoes or sandals
2. Those casual brown or black leather shoes (you know, the glorified tennis shoes that all the guys are wearing these days)
3. Dress shoes

If he goes with category one, this means “very casual”.  Jeans and a tshirt.  Perhaps even shorts and a tank top.

Category two?  Dressy casual.  Jeans and a nice blouse.  A sundress.  You know the deal.

And numero three couldn’t be more clear.  If a guy is bothering to put on dress shoes that he complains are uncomfortable (if he complains, you can make fun of him), you need to wear something fancy.  Maybe not the fanciest.  But not far from it.  A simple black dress and a colored cardigan will be appropriate for so many occasions.  Real life, remember?

On the topic of real life, I undercook things.  A lot.  Because overcooking is bad.  I undercooked some cookies a few weeks ago.  Bad things happened.  That’s all I’m admitting to.

And my drama teacher from high school sent me a recipe for homemade icees a couple months ago.  I just now made them.  And… they weren’t so good.  Real life.  I think I messed something up.

That, my friends, is real life.  And shoes.  And a few other things only vaguely related to food.  It won’t happen again.  Promise.