Bloggin' in the Airport

First things first, I would like to very vigorously and enthusiastically high-five whoever is responsible for bringing about free internet in the airport. One time, I was sitting at the airport and my flight got delayed by 3 hours. I only had my laptop with me and I was bored out of my mind, so I payed $9 to get on the internet. It made me very angry. But now it is free at the airports I've been to, and I am delighted. I am currently enjoying my very favorite traveling tradition, which is called TCBY White Chocolate Mousse soft-serve with strawberries. I don't even care that it costs 6 dollars and I eat it in 30 seconds. It is tradition and I love it. I don't know that I have ever consumed TCBY outside of an airport, and I don't plan on starting anytime soon. It would ruin my lovely little traveling ritual.

I had a dream a few nights ago that I brought my brand new baby to church. Except, instead of a baby, I had swaddled a honey baked ham. Everyone kept pointing out that my baby was in fact a ham, which made me very defensive and hostile. This is disturbing on several levels, not the least of which would be that I really do not particularly care for ham.

I graduate from college on Friday. I very excited about finally earning that very expensive and ultimately not extremely useful piece of paper. If I could go back in time and visit my college-freshman-self, I would tell myself to get a degree that someone might actually pay you to have. My degree really doesn't boast any marketable skills. I think it really just tells future employers, "I am smart, but not especially useful, and I tend to exercise poor decision making skills." But it's okay. I am rather enjoying my stint as a stay-at-home-Amy. I am not ready to have kids yet, but working sounds totally lame, and hey, someone's gotta keep the couch warm.

I am mostly kidding. As soon as I return from this graduation sensation, I am going to go about pursuing employment. This morning, I went to apply for a job on base that I am actually qualified for, and it had already been filled. It was only posted for 24 hours! Bummer, dude. But I'm over it, because that job would have required me to wear khakis every day of the week and we all know how I feel about khakis. Vienna sausage legs. No good, folks. And then, I would spiral into depression about looking like a frumpy polygamist all of the time, which would bring about binge eating and antidepressants, which would eat up my entire pay check, so really, it's for the best.

And now I am going to abandon this rambling blog post to resume my other favorite traveling past time: People watching. On my flight this morning, I listening to an old man tell his 350 year old wife that we were about to land in Denver, to which she replied, "Why are we going to Omaha??" This prompted him to tell her again that we would land in Denver in 10 minutes, which she answered with, "Who do we know in Omaha???" This continued for a good 15 minutes. It was delightful.

I need a waaaaaa-mburger and some french cries.

My head feels like it is going to explode. I am sneezing constantly, my nose is running like a faucet, and my eyes are so itchy I want to rip them out. I don't usually get allergies, but I think I have suddenly become allergic to the entire world. I am currently sitting in my running clothes, debating over whether I should go on the run I was planning. I am sort of leaning towards no, seeing as tying my shoelaces was fairly exhausting. Right about now, my Dad would spring to action, playing the world's saddest song, on the world's tiniest violin.

To add insult to injury, my husband won't kiss me because if he gets sick too, he won't get to fly. Boohoohoo, life is so hard for Amy.

The Care Bear didn't have to go in until 10:00 this morning, so he made me some delicious french toast. I think it was delicious. I don't really know, I can't taste anything. But it was so very sweet of him anyway. I love that guy. I'm going to miss him like crazy while I'm off on my trip.

Remember that time I told you guys about the dream where Cary and I were collecting rolly pollies from our bed? This morning when I was making the bed, I found a rolly polly in the sheets. I am disturbed.

On that note, I am either going to go on my run or go sit on the couch and watch Netflix and pout.

Oh, the inhumanity.

I woke up yesterday and told Cary that I had a horrible nightmare last night. He asked what it was about, and I told him that I'd dreamed (why do I always think dreampt is a word?) that I'd made cookies and realized once they were in the oven that I'd forgotten the butter.

He said the fact that I consider that to be a nightmare means that I have serious problems.

Little did I know, this nightmare was something of a premonition. I made my favorite chocolate chip cookies this morning, and they didn't turn out at all. I have no idea why. I definitely remembered the butter. My arteries are still feeling anxiety over the fact that the double batch required 3 sticks of butter. But the cookies are flat and not anything like how they are supposed to be and I am quite distraught. I'm so annoyed that I used up all those ingredients, only to toss it all.

I'm even more annoyed that I ate a whole one for breakfast this morning and it wasn't even good.

It is a difficult world I live in.

Procrastination Station

I only have to write 7 more pages and I am done with all assignments in my undergraduate degree. I started off the day right- I went on a 6 mile run with the Abberooni without falling down and came home, folded laundry, cleaned up the house a bit, and jumped in the shower. And then I sat in my towel-dress for 2 hours watching a movie. No matter, it was only noon and I could definitely recover from my less-than-scholarly morning by committing to a riveting afternoon of research-paper-writing. ... Right after I go to the store. After all, it was absolutely pertinent that I replace my toothbrush rightthatveryinstant. (Tangent: Is there anything better than the first time you brush your teeth with a brand new toothbrush? Ok, there are a few things, but it's still up there on my list of little joys in life). After picking up my toothbrush and several other impulse purchases, I decided I'd better go to the grocery store, while I was out and about. Saving gas, you know. After all of those errands, it was suddenly 4:00 in the afternoon. I could power through the evening and get this paper done. But first I decided I'd better practice piano for accompanying the church choir in the Easter program on Sunday (don't even get me started on that one). And then the hubs came home with all sorts of unreasonable demands concerning being fed after his 12 hour day. After eating dinner and perhaps a quick wii-boxing throw down, during which I suffered a debilitating elbow injury, I finally settled down to write my paper... at 7:30. Of course, who can write a paper without writing a quick blog soliloquy regarding the entire creative process of writing The Worst Research Paper Known to Man. But now that this blog post is written, there is nothing stopping me from cranking out that sonuvagun right here and now. That is, right after I drink a quick Diet Coke. And maybe play tug-of-war with Abby.


Also: As soon as I am done with escuela, and after I have spent a week forgetting everything I've ever learned and letting my brain turn into porridge, I would like to read a book that no one will test me on or make me write a paper about. Any book suggestions from the peanut gallery? Pretty please?

I scwaped my knee and it huwts.

After deciding on a topic for my last research paper and starting my research, I came to a dead-end and couldn't find all 15 sources that I needed. So I had to pick a new topic and start aaaaaallllll over. After much whining and crying and gnashing of teeth, I finally found all 15. All I have to do now is write the dang thing, and I am done with school.

Naturally, I have decided it is a good time for a bloggin' break.

Mostly because I wanted to whine about my faceplant this morning. 
It started as a lovely morning jog. I was feeling like pretty hot stuff, as I had recently passed another jogger. The fact that the other jogger was an 80 year old woman is completely irrelevant. The point is, I was feeling good as the morning commuters drove past. I was 2 1/2 miles away from our house when suddenly gravity overcame me and I became intimately acquainted with the side walk. I couldn't even blame it on Abby this time. She had been running very nicely by my side, and was now staring at me in a most confused manner as I lay sprawled across the sidewalk. Instead I think I will blame it on the fact that "Baby Got Back" had just come on my iPod and I was distracted by the sick beats. I'm fairly certain that I heard the man mowing in his yard across the street stifle a giggle. After I picked the gravel out of my hands and knee and thigh, I debated walking home, but walking 2 1/2 miles takes forever, so I decided to be a big tough girl and run the rest of the way home. I felt pretty hardcore, running home with blood dripping down my arms and legs. I got some strange looks. When I finally made it home, I procrastinated taking a shower for a good long while, because I didn't want to get soap in my boo-boos. But eventually my odor overcame me and I cleaned up, and now my battle wounds do not look nearly as impressive.

Boohoo

I will spare you a photo of the road rash on my upper thigh. And also of my bloody toe. Because no one wants to see that.

Welp, now that you all are feeling appropriately sorry for me, I'm going to go write my gol' darn paper. I am stating for the record that I am not allowed to waste time on the internet until I am done with my paper. Pinky promise.

By Golly, I've Done It.

You may or may not recall a blog post I wrote a long time ago, lamenting about the fact that I have been thus far unsuccessful in my endeavors to bake a delicious chocolate chip cookie. My numerous previous attempts have left much to be desired.

But I now feel pretty confident that I have found the recipe that I will get tattooed on my forearm in order to have it at my disposal at all times. These cookies are big, fat bakery style cookies. They are enormous and chocolate chippy and chewy and buttery and ohsofreakindelicious. I ate 2 of them and I am teetering on the edge of a dangerous sugar coma. This is saying a lot from someone with a sweet tooth of such magnitude. Try them. Love them.

Presenting:

The Best Chocolate Chip Cookie I Ever Done Made
(Found on Allrecipes)

This is an actual photo of the actual cookie I made!

Ingredients:
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
3/4 cup butter, melted
1 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup white sugar
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
1 egg
1 egg yolk
2 cups chocolate chips (I used a whole bag. I love me some choco chips.)

1. Preheat the oven to 325. Grease your baking sheet or use parchment paper or whatever floats your boat.
2. Sift together the flour, baking soda, and salt. Set aside.
3. Cream together the melted butter, brown sugar and white sugar. Add the vanilla, egg and egg yolk and beat until light and creamy. Stir in the flour mixture, just until combined. Stir in the chocolate chips.
4. Stick the batter in the fridge and forget about it for an hour or so. The dough is pretty wet, and sticking it the fridge allows it all to come together and work as a team to become the best darn choco chip cookie on earf.
5. After an hour of pacing around the kitchen and snitching cookie dough, drop the cookie dough by 1/4 cup full (YES 1/4 cup! These are big ol' cookies). Press them down just a bit. Space the cookies apart by 3 inches.
6. Pop the pan in the oven for about 15 minutes. Check them towards the end and pull them out when the edges are starting to become golden. They might not look quite done, but don't overcook these little buddies or you will cry. Take them out and let them cool for a few minutes on the pan before you put them on a wire rack to cool completely.
7. Eat at least one while still warm and gooey and consider starting a new religion designed upon reveling in the glory that is a perfect chocolate chip cookie.

As a very relevant and natural conclusion to this post, here a picture of our cute friend Jessica holding her cute little boxer puppy between her legs, next to my cute husband Cary holding our cute little puppy between his legs. She's a dainty little thing.