Well, I realize I’ve been neglecting my little journal here yet again, but not for lack of material! To give you the 30-second synopsis, Baby Girl still has cranky hours (and, yes, sometimes days) but is starting to get used to this old world. She’s much easier to comfort during the day, and is beginning to go an extra hour during the night. Hey, I’ll take it! Plus, today she rewarded us with her first gummy grin. Totally worth the wait. Unfortunately, it would be easier to capture a picture of the Loch Ness Monster than catch one of her smiles, but one of these days I bet she’ll let me share one with you. As for her brother, that poor thing is still riding a roller coaster of emotions, but we are really having fun looking forward to Christmas. This is the first year he’s cared about it at all; the boy’s bursting with excitement!
And greed, but that’s a story for another time.
Anyway, the baking and candy-making has become, with mixed success. The cinnamon rolls I tried to make for my sister’s birthday? Complete flop. Killed the yeast, yadda yadda yadda, those Pillsbury Grands Cinnabons are pretty good! [Yes, I quickly moved to Plan B, since I had no confidence that a second try at the homemades would be any better, and nothing says Happy Birthday than having cinnamon pucks hurled at your door by an angry baker, right? Yes, Plan B was a good move.] Determined to overcome this failure, I attempted my old faithful pizza dough last night. Success!
OK, but here’s what happens if you put the store the dough in the refrigerator for a couple of hours:
The recipe says you can leave it there for a day; I can’t imagine the mess that would make. Nevertheless, my helper and I made some tasty calzone for dinner.
Today, I attempted to make this Penuche Fudge. Um, the jury’s still out. For one thing, even though I was only cooking on medium-low, the fudge hit 236 degrees in about 10 minutes instead of 25. Also, it’s been more than an hour, and it still hasn’t set up sufficiently. Worst case, though, it’ll make a tasty dessert topping. It’s delish!
Still. I wasn’t making dessert topping, you know? Whatever.