Give Me a B! And, I'll take it gladly!

Checked the old grades online today (man, this modern schooling thing is great!!), and there was a B next to the Pantry entry. Again, if we go by the alleged Head Chef scale--remember the "If you got an A, you wouldn't be here," philosophy?--then, I did okay.

It is somewhat disheartening to constantly wonder if I really did get an A or was I solid B student? Heck, I know I'm worrying too much about it, and a B is a perfectly acceptable grade. We'll just think of it like B for Butter, which is very palatable. : )

4 days until Christmas!! And, have I finished the shopping yet? Since I just posed that question, you can guess the answer. I did get the Chiclet a really cool thing. It's pop-up (or should that be pop-out?) measuring cups. We have to carry so much stuff in our knife kits, including a set of metal measuring cups, that it's hard to get them to roll and close. I'm thinking that this might make it just a little easier for her. Aren't they cool?(Of course, I got a set for myself, too...how can you resist such fun things! And, it came with a bonus set of measuring spoons that sort of fold in upon themselves. I so love The Container Store!)

This afternoon at SS, we had 9 or so 11-year old girls who made meals as birthday party favors. They got to make a braided bread, a half-entree, and a half-dessert. How cool is that? These "cooking" birthday parties are becoming a very popular thing at our store, and I think it's great. It really beats the heck out of pin the tail on the donkey (or elephant, whichever way your political leanings lie), plus it introduces them to the concept that cooking can be fun. If I had the proverbial nickel for everyone who came in the door and said how much they hated to cook but that coming to Super Suppers was fun and they'd definitely do it again, I'd have a nice chunk of change.

Seriously, why are so many people afraid of cooking? Probably because they were never allowed to cook as a child, or they had mothers who fed them spaghetti sauce made with ketchup (yes, I know I should let that go, but how can I?!!) And, the cult of the celebrity chef is a two-edged sword at times. It can inspire both the creative juices and that little frisson of fear up the back of your neck when you actually have to produce something for someone...trust me, been there.

Anyway, the girls seemed to be having a good time as they made their meals. They were the funniest when it came to the bread, and I guess I hadn't realized exactly how much of a forearm workout that you get when rolling out dough until I watched them struggling. Hmmm...maybe that should give rise to a whole lineup at Food Network: Aerobics in the Kitchen. I work up a sweat while sitting on the couch and watching ol' Rachael Ray do the hand jive every time she explains a meal, a technique, etc. That girl must burn 5,ooo calories a minute...and I burn at least 200-300 just being annoyed with her, I'm sure.

Gotta go put in some time at the ol' laundry pit down in the basement of doom. We're heading to see The Man's tribe somewhere near the Arctic Circle...at least that's where he likes to pretend he's from with all his "you've never really been cold" diatribes...you would think he comes from Yetis instead of perfectly lovely folks. (For the record, I have been in St. Cloud, MN on Christmas Day before, and it was a balmy -10 °F, thank you very much. I consider that too damn cold in my book.) Anyway, gotta make sure I have clean long johns and other survival gear for the northward trek. Oh, and presents...gotta wrap the presents...gotta finish getting the presents first.

Happy Howlidays to you all from all of us here at Poodlevania--me, The Man, and Banes of our Existence: Rickety Fat Dog, The Goldfish, and The New Hotness.