Last week, in my workplace, something like 26 people moved to new cubes/office - including me. In the last six months, most of the building has moved, basically - at least three whole departments + one department moving to a different building and one department being blown up <ugh>.
Today, we're having a little event called "The People in Your Neighborhood" so we can roam about, and figure out where everyone is living now. We were asked to bring in a dessert or dip to share.
This weekend also happens to be the official 40th birthday party for Bratty Sister and I am making the desserts. Her brother-in-law (her Spouse's brother) is vegan + I know a number of people attending are gluten-free + I had some canned pumpkin that I thought would make a tasty dessert. Enter my gluten-free, vegan punkin' cookies. And where I discover I am a baking genius. <not really>
Side note: how in the heel <deliberate typo> am I old enough for Bratty Baby Sister to be 40? Egads.
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| Us, circa 1977-ish |
One of my favorite summer fruits is watermelon. I've always loved the flavor and even not being a huge melon person, there's something very refreshing about watermelon. Side note: watermelon was also my favorite Jolly Rancher flavor, so there's that.
As part of my Azoti farm share a few weeks' back, there was the cutest little butterball of a seedless watermelon. It was totally fun sized. I should have taken a picture of it whole but I didn't. Pooper.
This is it cut into two quarters though:
It was completely perfect in sweetness, consistency, meatiness - just perfection in melon form.
Baby watermelon was a lot to eat, especially as Spouse is not a fan (I know, it is truly inexplicable), so I was trying to decide what to do with it. Ohio went through the last gasp of Summer and a watermelon cocktail sounded pretty delish at the time.
I am writing this at the request of one of my favoritest 'Shire peeps, Stephanie, who thinks my lexicon is both hilarious and ridiculous.
Stephanie's disbelief in my lexicon started when she was telling me about her poopy day and I uttered, to be the supportive, loving, caring friend that of course I am: "You poor poochie pot!". She stopped what she was going to say, looked at me like my hair was on fire and stated emphatically, "That is NOT a word". Um, yeah, it is, chica. Yeah, it is. In my world.
I feel like I've always had my own lexicon. Some of it comes from having the variety of brain which combines words, i.e. I will think of two words - for example nice and cute - and the word that it audibly uttered is cice, because at the last possible moment, I couldn't decide which word I wanted to use most so took parts of both words. Or when instead of saying, "That really hit the spot", it came out as "That really hot the spit".
Side note: sometimes the combining of words comes out in your favor because you create a wonderful new word in the process. For instance fabulous and fantastic becomes fantabulous. Which is a seriously cool word, amirite? Useful in many situations.
