This post is alternately titled

The delicious cookies born of DOOM and DISASTER!

Once upon a time in a village far far away lived a girl (used very loosely here) who desperately wanted to be skinny.  So much so that she even got a gym membership and used it regularly.  However, one fateful day in early september, her ever present craving for chocolate chip cookies became so powerful that she said, 'Imma make me some of those!'

This cookie making session began like any other, by locating the chocolate chips, of course.  Alas, upon reading the recipe on the package, our heroine was unsatisfied  decided to look up the toll house recipe on line (this one).  Our heroine, lady that she was, said "Ah hell nah!  I can't be having all that mess! Imma substitute regular flour for whole wheat and half the butter for organic low-fat-vanilla yogurt and all those sugars for raw sugar."  Secretly, she knew that she would be eating at least 75 of the cookies so this only made sense.

Our lusty heroine (why not, right?  There aren't any pictures here...) put the stick of butter in the microwave and heated it for 10 seconds as she dumped the sugar in <strike>my</strike> her mixing bowl.  With the help of her fine skills of observation, she realized that the butter wasn't quite softened enough so another 10 seconds was thought to fix that.  Into the bowl the butter went.

After mixing for a moment, she realized that her amazing powers of observation might not have been quite so amazing and the butter might not be quite softened after all.  Of course, the only logical thing to do in order to dislodge the too-hard butter from the mixer mixing thingy was to get her blow dryer.  Duh.  BOOM!  Worked like a charm!

Once the butter was actually softened and all fluffed into the sugar and vanilla, enter the eggs!  Now, our heroine being the master of efficiency she truly was saw no need to stop the mixer and raise the head to crack the eggs.  Rather, she cracked one on the side, but in a stroke of bad luck, most likely the result of some sort of curse, half the egg shell fell into the mixing bowl!  Forsooth!  (that fits here, right?)

Our lovely heroine tried to pull out as much of the egg shells as possible, but again, her powerful urge for cookies kicked in and she said, "fuck it" and went on with the business of making her own personal ambrosia.

The cookies, born of doom and disaster, with the help of a multi-purpose kitchen tool, aka a blow dryer, turned out delicious and delightful, albeit crunchy.  As a result, everyone lived happily every after and there was piece on earth.

The end.

PS- As for mixers, that'a the one I have and I LOVE it!!

Our youngest daughter Dagny is a very... interesting person.

She is also the funniest person she knows and has been since day one.   </div>

I quite enjoy her.

The other day I had my keys and sunglasses on the coffee table.  (Fair game, I guess?)  She puts the glasses on in her trademark style: upside down.  That's how she rolls.  My children are very stylish, something I'm sure they must have gotten from...  well, it could have been from either of us as we are both really just fashion icons.  I'll save that for another day...  I'll put up a fashion show post.  You'll love it.  Vogue ain't got shit on the Fortino's!  Lookout!

Oh... got a bit off track there...  that's what happens in my head all the time...

Back to Dagny....  If you could read her mind, I think it would go something like this...

I know I am out of focus in that picture mom is talking, but I am just so damn happy to have these things I shouldn't that I don't even care about being blurry!  Also, I am super cute and SO funny! I am also awesome and just a genuine badass.  Note it!

Wow!  I got really distracted by my awesomeness for a second.  It happens...  Oh wait, look at this...keys!  I could run off and lose them... that is always super fun!  .... but if I examine them, while looking very thoughtful, perhaps I can find something else to do with them...  

What is their purpose?

OH!!  I've got it figured out!!  

Oh glasses!  You are in the way.  But I will not be deterred.  Nor will I remove my glasses. 

Hell yeah!  Imma get this thing up in my eye!  It's on!!!  

Seriously, I really think this is a good idea!  I'm not giving up!  I have found the purpose of keys and I will not rest until it is fulfilled!!!

*Alternate Dagny thought* 

 Fuck all the hype, I'm done with the fun and games.  I only need one eye.  Lets do this!

(Get it?  It's all fun and games 'til someone loses an eye..? Get it?!)

No Dagny's were harmed in the taking of these pictures.  Really, she is quite sturdy. 

Also, I would not let her actually put a key in her eye.

My husband is one lucky son of a bitch!

My mother in law is in no way a bitch.  She is actually quite delightful and I'm rather fond of her.  I just like to be as inappropriate as possible at any given time.  (I don't really need to go further to illustrate, do I?)

Well. As I was saying... He is super fly, you must know, to land a catch such as I.  He is also quite delicious.  Sex on a stick, really.
   
(Wholly Shit!!  We could feature the above lines on one of our random rap sessions.  We do that.  Really.  We do.  Imma write those down... wait...!)

[(and yes, I like wholly vs. holy because if its a holy one, isn't is just loose stool as opposed to wholly heaven angel crap raining down on you? (assuming your conception of the whole includes heaven crap))  That's one sound argument.  Not holy at all....  shit.]

I decided one day that Italians were simply where it was at (after reading some book- maybe Eat Pray Love?  Probably.  (read it!)) and went out and found myself one.   Ok, that may not be <i>exactly</i> how it happened, but it's probably... maybe... close. <br />

Back to how sexy he is... Very.  He is so delicious with his man hands and boots and jeans and sexy sexiness....  ...breathe....  breathe....  wow....

Oh Dolly!  You know my heart.  (even if yours are covered by gigantic, huge, hemotorkin boobs!)  Oh, except for the parts that aren't about looking sexy in boots and jeans.  Those are the only parts of this song that actually apply.  Mostly the gunny sack bit.

Back to the lucky bastard.... not only was he my ticket to italian-dom, but he also happens to be quite fabulous and we make a fairly decent pair (being modest here.  We're totally badass.)

Honestly, I really like the guy.  :)

Again, I am so happy that I get to convert to Italian-ism, but I also get to be Italian (same thing?) and I get to be married to him!

(Did I mention that I like parentheses... and 'dot dot dots'?  (No?  Well, I do.))

Damn!  I keep getting distracted by his good looking-ness and my Italian-ness.  In conclusion:  he is lucky to be so damn sexy and also to get someone such as I because I am Italian and amazing and awesome.  (ref. other blogs I posted.)

So, in the past less-than-two-months, my life has undergone a few changes.  Some of them wonderful, amazing, eternalizing (that's is so a word!), another gut wrenching, heart-breaking, soul crushing, and still others (other) exciting, challenging and full of pride.

The wonderful, amazing, eternalizing part was when I married my husband.  (Well, it's been almost 2 months, so technically I did!)  He is amazing.  He is fun.  He is perfect- for me.  We are a mess.  We are absolutely fabulous together.  Our wedding was the funnest (another real word) wedding I've ever been too.  That may not be saying a lot since I haven't been to a shit ton of weddings and I don't generally like them and this was my own, but... it was FUN!  It was a tit bit stressful... just a tit bit.

My father has recently been diagnosed with clear cell renal cell carcinoma- advanced kidney cancer.  My dad is not only awesome, an awesome dad AND one of my most favorite relatives, but one of my most favourite (think favor-right) people.  Ever.  Gut wrenching.  Heart-breaking.  Soul crushing.  But hope remains.

My big baby, our five year old, started kindergarten.  She is so big.  She is OLD!!!  FIVE whole years old!!!!!!!  Well, that is how she looks at it.  Except when she is super pissed that she isn't six yet... or a grown up.  She really wants to be a grown up.  I am challenged by that.  I want her to enjoy being young.  Enjoy the joys of five.  She makes my heart swell with pride.  and joy.  She is good shit.

So, that's what's up.  Ha.  I went there.


But, the thing is, life is about changing.  nothing ever stays the same, or so says Patty Loveless

I would say that this "is just a stressful time," but I think that this is just life.  It's for the living and living is about experience.  Nobody said that "experience" was exclusive to travels and hindsight.  Experience is about... expereince-ing.  Love.  Pain.  Hurt.  Loss.  Fear.  Triumph.  Tragedy.   Pride.  Joy.  Thankfulness. Hope.

My new manta (and even having a "mantra" is new... as in this very moment new) is:<br />

Hope springs eternal.  

Because it does.