A Christmas Present for You!

16 Dec

I am a bad blogger. A very bad blogger. I have told you nothing that’s been going on in the last six months.

And I’m not going to start today. Nope, today I’m going to give you a Christmas present. Something you NEED.

Brownies. So good. Candy Cane Brownies with Peppermint Frosting. So, so much better.

Or not. I know I may destroy my sweet cred here…but I don’t like frosting on my brownies. Or my cookies. I just don’t.

And I love frosting. Bring me a bowl of frosting and a spoon and we’ll be best friends. Put it on my brownie and…eh…take it or leave it.

Are you alright? I know it’s a bit of a shock that there is something sweet out there that I won’t shove in my face until I make myself sick. Trust me…this is one of the very few sweet things that I’m not a fan of.

But…I made these brownies and have it from very reliable sources that they are ah-maze-ing. If you like peppermint. If not..perhaps this is not the recipe for you. Don’t worry…I have one for you tomorrow.

And I can personally attest to the frosting being by-the-spoonful-delicious. Because I ate it that way. Taste testing, you know.

So…make these. They are festive. And delicious. Probably.

Candy Cane Brownies with Peppermint Frosting


1 box brownie mix (Betty Crocker Fudge Brownies Family Size is my box of choice)

4-6 crushed full-size candy canes

1 cup of Ghirardelli Bittersweet Chocolate chips


Make brownie batter according to directions on box. Add crushed candy canes and chocolate chips. Spread in baking dish and bake until done. Again…see box if you are confused.

For Peppermint Frosting:


1 package of cream cheese

1 stick of butter (room temp…if cold, warm in microwave in VERY small increments until slightly softened)

3 cups of powdered sugar

Peppermint extract to taste


Beat cream cheese, butter and powdered sugar in a bowl. Add peppermint extract a little at a time until your desired pepperminty-ness has been reached. Try not to eat the whole bowl. Spread whatever you can manage to keep yourself from eating with a spoon on brownies. Top with crushed candy canes because it’s pretty.

Take to party and impress all of your friends. Or eat alone. Your choice. No judgement.

Merry Christmas!

Christmas yum!

Christmas yum!



7 Jul

I made cake last weekend. With booze.

And then added more booze on top. And ice cream. It was awesome.

I made a Bourbon Peach Pound Cake with Drunk Peaches and ice cream.

You should make this. Now. Like, right now. Or come to my house and I will make it and you can eat it because if you don’t I will eat every bite.

I wish I had a picture for you but I am impatient and could not wait for the cake to cook before I put it in my cake-hole and so I had to shove it back in the pan and back in the oven and it was not very camera ready. But it was very delicious.

It tastes like…awesome. And drunk. Tastes like drunk.

Bourbon Peach Pound Cake with Drunk Peaches

Bourbon Peach Pound Cake

4 cups of all purpose flour

3 cups of sugar (I used 1 cup dark brown, 1 cup light brown, 1 cup regular)

4 sticks of butter softened

1/4 cup of buttermilk

1/4 cup heavy cream

1/2 cup (+) bourbon

6 large eggs



2 1/2 cups of diced fresh peaches (took about 4)

Layer all ingredients except peaches in a bowl in order and mix thoroughly. Add peaches. Mix some more. Bake at 325 until done. All the way done. Not halfway done like mine. A knife should come out clean when inserted in the middle.

Drunk Peaches

1 cup bourbon

1 cup  brown sugar

3 ripe peaches sliced

Boil bourbon, sugar and peaches in a saucepan until thickened and liquid reduces. Syrupy deliciousness results. Store in a jar in the refrigerator.

I like these over cake with ice cream on top or just over ice cream. Husband likes them in bowl with a spoon.

Please invite me over when you make this. Thank you.

The Easter Bunny Lives in My Backyard

26 Mar

He showed up at Easter, thus he is the Easter Bunny.

Barnaby the Easter Bunny

Barnaby the Easter Bunny

I have named him Barnaby and asked him to stay.

Harley thinks we should name him Dinner and eat him. Now.

Jacob thinks we should call him Dinner and Harley should eat him before Barnaby eats all the grass.

They were overruled. His name is Barnaby and he’s staying. And maybe bringing chocolate eggs.

Does anyone know where the whole Easter Bunny thing came from? WTF does an anthropomorphized rabbit have to do with Jesus? And why does he bring eggs? Rabbits don’t even lay eggs!

Notice that I am curious enough to wonder about it here and yet not curious enough to Google “origins of the Easter Bunny”…

Working on a food post. It will be much more interesting than random musings about the Easter Bunny, as it will be about food. Points to you for reading this post though!

Thunderstorms Suck

25 Mar

I hid in a bathroom this weekend. But I think my phobia is getting better.

I should probably explain.

I am terrified of storms. Scared to death. Hands-shaking-palms-sweating-stomach-in-knots-hide-in-a-closet-refuse-to-leave-the-house scared.

I don’t know why; it’s always been that way.

My parents say that even as little kid I would come running the minute the warning beep beep beep came across the television. I could hear that sound from anywhere, no matter what I was doing.

I would come running into the room and ask them to tell me what it said. To which they would reply, “It says it’s looking for little girls named Kate.” Nice.

When I was a little older and could read it myself I would ask, “Where is Hoke County? Where is Duplin County? Where is that to us? Is it coming here?”

To which they would reply, “Yes, it’s specifically looking for Kate and is coming to get her.”

They think my fear is funny. And probably a little ridiculous. And somewhat irrational. So does my husband.

Maybe it is a little ridiculous.  And it is completely irrational.

In the past, I have refused to leave the house if it looks like it might thunder. Make plans for Saturday? Umm…no, sorry, can’t. Forecast calls for thunderstorms.

You think I’m exaggerating.

So anyway back to this weekend. We were under a tornado warning so I hid in the bathroom with my blanket, cell phone and bottle of water. My husband laughed.

The upside to dating for 7+ years before getting married is that he is well aware of my particular brand of crazy. He is not surprised when I start pacing the minute the sky clouds up. He is not surprised when he wakes up in the middle of a storm and I am sitting in the closet.

So this weekend, when I gathered my supplies and went to hide in the guest bathroom (the most interior room of our house) he just laughed and started the dishwasher.

You’re probably wondering how this could possibly mean that my fear of storms is getting better. Fair enough.

See, despite what the rest of you may think, I think hiding from a an actual tornado warning (meaning one is active in the area) is perfectly reasonable. Have you seen the Wizard of Oz?

(Side note: I HATE that movie. Who decided that was appropriate for children? Tornadoes that tear your house away, evil witches, creepy wizards, flying monkeys…lions and tigers and bears, oh my. Not cool. The only good part of that movie is the color-changing horse…and the Emerald City is still creepy as hell.)

But the rest of the weekend…I did not hide. Nope nope. I went out and did things. Even outside things.

All week I  wanted to go to the arts market. The outside arts market. So I did. Event though it was cloudy and a little rumbly.

I went out to dinner in the middle of a very loud and flashy storm. (And we made excellent drive time because the power was out and there were no stoplights. Jacob’s reasoning for not stopping was…big road wins!)

Sunday morning, even as I watched the weather channel and they told me not to leave the house, I made plans to go to brunch just as the storm would arrive. And I actually went!

At no point did I cancel my plans because it was thundery-looking. This, if you ask me, is a huge win and means I am getting much braver.

I deserve a cupcake.

Florida, You’re Doing It Wrong

16 Jan

Here is a screenshot from my phone in December.

It's December. It's 75 degrees. It's wrong.

It’s December. It’s 75 degrees. It’s wrong.

Here is a screenshot from my phone in January.

It's January. It's 78 degrees. Still wrong.

It’s January. It’s 78 degrees. Still wrong.

Really, Florida? It’s WINTER! You’re doing it wrong!

It’s been 80 degrees for a week now and all the outside things are confused and now my car is covered in pollen and I can’t breathe and this is supposed to be the time of year when I get to have good hair days but thanks to 80 degree, humid Florida, no.

It’s winter. It’s supposed to be cold. Florida, you’re doing it wrong.

(I’m a little complain-y this week, aren’t I? Sorry….next post, no complaining…got it!)

(Also…third post this week….you know what that means! Cupcakes for me!)

T.G.I.O. (Thank God It’s Over!)

15 Jan

So today was a bad day. Just one of those days where you just can’t win. The universe hates you. A screw-the-glass-gimme-the-bottle kinda day.

(Don’t worry, family, everything is fine…keep reading!)

I dropped my car off for some repairs this morning and picked up a rental. Normally, I don’t need a rental because we have three cars but since the Camaro just got a fancy new engine, it’s going back to the shop for some tweaks.

So, I got a rental. There was supposed to be a pretty shiny Jetta waiting for me when I came in at 8am. There was not.

It was 10:00am before they found a car for me (a giant Silverado, by the way….yeah, that’s me driving around in the ginormous truck).

I spent part of the two hours I waited, sort of patiently, putting out work-related fires. On my phone. Because they have no wi-fi.

And it was one fire after another. Deadline looming here, wrong ad submitted there, where is this, why is that…..

On top of this, I was supposed to be setting up and hosting an event at work that was scheduled to begin at 11am. I was 40 miles from my office. Yeah, I was a little panicked.

So I got my truck and (very safely and carefully and obeying all traffic laws) hauled ass to work.

I walked in full of apologies, frustration and just a touch of panic. And kinda feeling like I wanted to cry.

My boss just smiled and said, “No big deal. Don’t worry about it. I heard you had a little trouble this morning.”

Well, that was all the encouragement I needed to launch into a short but dramatic retelling of exactly what led to me being more than an hour and half late for work.

And then one of my favorite clients walked over and gave me a hug.

And then a few more favorites arrived for our event and gave out more hugs and compliments and general happiness.

And then my day was better. Not good, not fine, but better.

It did not stop the printer from deciding that I am evil and jamming on every single document I sent. Every. Single. One. It did not stop the grumpy old lady from complaining about WHERE OUR BUILDING IS LOCATED (because I obviously put it there specifically to piss her off….that’s how I get my kicks…hiding buildings from little old ladies.)

But it made my day oh so much better than it would have been otherwise.

So this is a long way of saying….today I love my job. And the people I work for. And the people I work with. And all of our awesome clients.

Tomorrow I may feel differently. But today? Today I love my job.

Gym Rant

14 Jan

You read that right, this is a gym rant. I have not become a gym RAT. Never gonna happen.

I hate the gym in January. Hate it more than usual, I mean. So here is my rant.

January at the gym sucks. A lot. Seriously.

I mean, good for all you normally lazy people who make the NewYear’s resolution to go to the gym. Credit for trying. But let’s face it…90% of you are going to give up by March.

So…can we just hurry up and get to the giving up part?

Seriously….you are in my way and getting on my nerves. You are loud. You take up all the equipment. And many of you are literally a safety hazard to yourself and others, including me. Mainly me.

Go away. I appreciate that you’re trying. Really I do. But do you have the commitment to stick with it? No, you don’t.

I’m not knocking you…I don’t blame you. I’m not committed either…my regular attendance at the gym is simply an unfortunate side effect of my commitment to cupcakes.

What I am saying is…since you’re going to give up anyway…make all our lives more pleasant and do it now. Or come when I’m not there. (Monday-Friday 6pm-well…let’s say 9:00pm to be safe and you should just avoid weekends altogether.)

Also, new people? Please stop talking to me! I do not want to talk to you at the gym. See the book in front of me? And the way I avoid eye contact? And give one word answers to everything you say? Leave me alone. Please.

Normally, I think of myself as a people person. But at the gym? Nope. I hate you. All of you. Yep, you too.

The rant in my head was longer when I was at the gym. But I’m done…for now.