Tuesday, November 16, 2004

singing out loud when the sun came up

For some reason, I equate November with pumpkins. I'm sure most people would think of pumpkins in relation to Halloween, but count on me to procrastinate. Last week, I made pumpkin chocolate chip cookies, which were curious... I am not sure how I feel about intermingling spices with chocolate. Yesterday, I decided to go for something more traditional and made... no, not pumpkin pie... pumpkin pie is not very portable, and I don't much care for it myself, so what would I do with a big old pumpkin pie? No, I made pumpkin muffins. When I bake, I become very aware of my mother's undue influence when it comes to recipes; rather than following directions as a good chemist would, I am always tempted into the a little of this, a little of that mentality. She has sent me recipes for Indian dishes, and after almost every ingredient is the dreaded to taste as the specification for the amount.

Some drama unfolded with the muffins, because the recipe called for whole wheat flour. Strangely enough, I did have whole wheat flour on hand, but when I looked in the container where I keep the flour stored, I immediately started cursing and gnashing my teeth. Meal worms had infested my flour. The scientist in me was having trouble letting that go. Worms do not just spontaneously appear; they either were there from the start as microscopic larvae, or they somehow found their way into my bag of flour which was stored in an airtight container. I think the former was the case, because the wheat flour was organic (that was the sound of my eyes rolling). Anyway, a quick trip to the local market, and an hour later, pumpkin muffins. Not too bad. But now I am unreasonably paranoid about the possibility that these meal worms may have infiltrated my pantry and may one day appear in my sugar or baking powder.

Speaking of being unreasonably paranoid, I saw a commercial last week for VH1's Motormouth, and I was horrified. Is nothing sacred?? Anyone who commutes by car knows that at times, jamming out in your car to whatever happens to be on your radio or cd player is the only way to maintain your sanity. Just yesterday, Rock the Casbah kept me from unleashing a fury of "you wouldn't like me when I'm angry"-style road-rage. I was unabashed about this, but what if I am suddenly a victim of the reality tv craze?

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