Hot Stuf

Weird stuff always happens to me. Most of it is my own fault, though.

I've had plans for several weeks to make a big, heart-shaped cookie for Joey's friend's wife for Valentine's day. I made it last night while we watched Olympics. The cookie itself looks great. It's nice and soft, the dough tastes yummy, and it's perfectly shaped. (It almost wasn't, though, because I just about ripped off the left half of the heart trying to transfer it off the waxed paper. I decided to leave it where it was.) Anyway, I was supposed to frost this cookie like one the guy had seen at the Great American Cookie Company.

Martha Stewart, I am not. But I try.

I mixed up my frosting and dyed half of it red. I started making the big white blobs around the outside, alternating them with red ones. It looked so good, almost like somebody who knew what they were doing had made it! But...I still had to write "hot stuff" on it. Herein, I knew, lay the challenge. I started frosting. The word "hot" turned out really great. I started frosting "stuff" and realized that I was out of room!

Yes, the cookie reads "Hot Stuf".

I thought about adding an extra "t" to the word "hot" so that they were both spelled wrong, but decided against it. "Hott Stuf" just doesn't really do it for me. Besides, I'd already stuck a frosting heart in the place I was going to put the extra "t".

On the upside, this morning my birds were super cool. I was getting ready and Whitebird looked super cute, so I decided to go chirp at him a little bit. I stuck my nose through the cage bars and stared at tricksy Whitebird. He stared back at me and edged closer and closer on his perch. He kept shifting his little white head to get a different angle on my nose. Then, he reached out his little beak and started nibbling on the end of my nose. It really tickled. Whitebird sidled up real close so he could nibble even better, but just about then my calves gave out from standing on my tiptoes for so long.

I tried the same thing with Mr. Darcy, but she wasn't interested in my nose. Fancy that. At least all the lines I got on my nose (from sticking it through the cage bars) wore off before I started my telemarketing. People would have hung up on me for sure!