This post has no point. Let's call it a crack me up post.
Our measuring cups are in hiding. Mr. Sophanne swears he didn't put them anywhere but they are not where I put them.
I am baking gingersnaps. The recipe calls for 3/4 c of shortening or oil. I had to use the 1/4 c measuring cup from a set that is all in pieces. I only put in one 1/4 c. I think. Or maybe it was three. I'm not sure. So I put in 2 more. There is either 3/4 c of oil in them or 5/4 c. in them.
This is why baking is not a recommended career for the attention deficit.
Other random thoughts- we (and by we I mean Mr. Sophanne) watched some ridiculous zombie movie with Dennis Hopper in it which made me wonder why zombies just don't eat each other. I also wondered if the zombie food network has cooking shows.
Last week I was looking for songs about camels (for kids.) The standard "Alice's Camel" appeared on iTunes as well as a piece from the album "100 Rap Instrumentals." These 3-5 minute gems are backing tracks for would be rap artists.
In the same way that my brain believes that one day it will speak and comprehend all of the Romance languages with a snap of a finger, it also believes that given a proper backing track, it will be a rap star.
Words don't actually come out in either situation but the head bobbing and feigning of comprehension and participation is the same.
That's what the world needs- a Knitting Buddhist Rap Star with a very clever dog. (excuse me while I pause to riff on the words knit and purl)
One other thing that has me laughing while 1st graders are watching it is Jerry Lewis' performance of the Typewriter Song. It's pretty funny by itself but it's even funnier when you watch 6-7 year olds try to do it with him. Soon I will be searching the attic of the Aunt of Sophanne looking for some discarded manual typewriters so that I can let the kids take "typing solos." If I find more than one, I can have "Dueling Typewriters."
I'm knitting the Effortless Cardigan by Hannah Fettig (rav link) in Lavold Silky Wool.
I took a break from Columbo to watch season one of The Twilight Zone (1959) on Netflix.
The dog delivers my tennis shoes to my napping self promptly at 5:30 each day.
And I think you're all caught up.