Oatmeal or Cereal, Highway or Sidestreets

I think I could make it as a baker.

I'm not saying that I'm extremely gifted with sifting flour or that magic happens when you put a rolling pin in my hand, but I seem to find grating Baker's chocolate over a souffle topping extremely rewarding. Everything has to be done just right, though, or you're stuck with an icing that has a strange resemblance to cheap hair gel. Always flour your surface, use only low heat when you're melting a glaze, freeze the bowl and beaters first when you're making whipped cream- yes, it's all tedious but worth it. Hours spent stirring and steaming all fade away when you see the reaction to that first bite and it's better than warm fuzzies from head to toe. Four pies later and I don't mind the baking powder streaks on my t-shirt as long as the mass of Thanksgiving family-that's-not-really-related is deliciously satisfied. All this to say- a perfect pie crust really does send endorphins through my brain. Who knew? Is this normal? Regardless- Paula Deen, please take me under your wing.

Here you go: I think you might like this song. I keep coming back to it lately- whether the repeated listening is good for my health or not, I can't get away from the melody. It's a cover, but I promise it's still at heartwrenching and true as the first time I heard the lyrics; maybe even more so. He's in this grave, but of course, when Jeff's voice hits those high notes, even the rut he's trapped in seems somehow romantic. And just between us, behind the sarcasm I'm really a sucker for the nontraditional almost-not-in-love love song.