Not too much for blather today, so I just thought I'd let everyone know that I was, indeed, making cookies last night. At a stupid time of night, especially for someone who wakes up crappily early no matter how late she was baking.
That, by the way, sucks as much as it sounds like it sucks.
Anyway, for whatever reason I found myself in the mood for baking last night. It would have been nice if I'd been in the mood for baking a bit earlier because at least then I could have stopped at the store on the way home, but no. I decide I have to bake at night. With no baking powder in the house, which makes things difficult. Which, in turn, leads to shortbread. Not too many other options out there, really.
So, one batch of shortbread wreaths later (and one stack of dirty baking pans still on the stove. It was laaate by the time the cookies were done), I've baked. Probably a good thing, because I've been out of the habit for a while. I used to do it all the time, but I guess it became a victim to my serial interests.
It's an odd thing, that, and a life-long habit. I get interested in something, I do it regularly for a while, then I just stop to do something else. That abruptly, yes. It doesn't mean that I won't get interested again -- in fact, I generally do get interested again -- but it does mean that it'll go by the wayside for a while. It seems to happen with everything. Knitting, baking, writing bad poems...
Hmm. Wait a minute. The other day I started knitting something for the first time in about half a year. And yesterday the baking bug hit. Does that mean we all have to suffer through a spate of poetry next? And I say we all on purpose, since you just know I'd end up blogging the best of the worst, as it were.
I bet you're all on tenterhooks.
And with that... back to work for me. I brought the cookies in to work, by the way. So far no one's died. And yes, for you shortbread purists out there, I made them with butter. No point in making shortbread if you don't use butter. Even I know that, and even when I'm baking at a stupid time of night.
Um, so there.
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