So I've gotten into this habit of baking at around 8 at night. Husband puts the kids to bed and I start making things that require butter, flour, chocolate and just about everything else that would make your Weight Watcher's counselor have to breathe into a paper bag with her head between her legs.
The kids hate this new late night baking routine. Because just as they are falling asleep they smell some type of bake-ity goodness...and they can't have any. It's like being stuck in a traffic jam on the Eisenhower with a growly stomach right by that factory that makes the air smell like brownies, and there's nothing to eat but a linty tic tac. They are all, "I hate you mom! But you still better give us cookies after breakfast mom!"
Husband loves it and caps off each night with a warm, gooey something-or-other while he watches the news. And I love it because I am 10-12lbs away from actually weighing less than the man and since I am having trouble losing the weight (go figure) I'm on to plan B - fattening him up till we weigh the same. And my friends get twitchy in my kitchen, licking their plates and cursing me out at the same time. My Paula Dean pound cake is now called, "Goddamnitgivemeanotherpiece Cake".
But mostly, it's relaxing. I put on an apron, slide my Ipod into the pocket right beside my bottle of gin and listen to a podcast. Last night it was comedian Mike Birbiglia and Nestle Tollhouse Bars.
The night before it was Dr. Berman and Oprah's booming voice startling me with "DON'T BE AFRAID OF YOUR VAGINA!" while I kneaded French bread. And this past weekend it was This American Life making me chuckle sagely while I added walnuts to the banana loaf.
To offset this new baking zen I have added Jillian Michael's Shred DVD to my weekly walking workout. Lest my ass start to reflect the butterliciousness of my new habit. (It is totally reflecting it) Let's hope Jillian has what it takes, because my sister just mailed me my belated birthday gift, Rosie's All Butter, Fresh Cream, Sugar Packed Bakery Cookbook and I've got a Wait Wait Don't Tell Me podcast loaded up and ready to go. Mmm...mmmmm, it's on. Pour me a glass of wine, set the oven to 350 degrees and stand back cause I've got pans to flour.