Also I didn't feel like bitching on here, or bitching about bitching, or bitching about communications gaps, or whining about how I feel a distance between myself and several close friends because while one part of me is saying "Hey, it's your life not mine," the other part is saying, "And by the way, I hope to hell you don't lose the ticket for your common sense that you obviously checked at the friggin' door."
So instead I'll post about this book that I want to get:
The Easy-Bake Oven Gourmet
I understand it has recipes for lobster quiche and stuff like that. I'm not sure if I want to eat seafood cooked under a lightbulb, but it looks like a fun read. You see, I wasn't allowed to have an Easy-Bake Oven when I was little. The kids across the street had one and I coveted it mightily. All the cute lil' mini pans and rolling pins and cookie sheets and tiny boxes of mix. I have always loved miniature everything, and was the kind of kid who at age 5 loved to help Mommy bake (and lick the bowl and eat half the raw cake batter or cookie dough before it made it to the baking pan) so an Easy-Bake Oven would have been right up my alley. But Mama was worried that I'd burn myself on the hot litebulb. So no Easy-Bake Oven for me. Bummer.
Instead, she bought me a complete massive set of every little mini cooking pan and utensil and miniature cake mix there was, out of the Sears catalog, and said, "I'll teach you to use the REAL oven." And she did. I mixed up my little cakes and cookies and she taught me how to turn on the big oven and look inside it to make sure the pilot came on and set the temperature and then bake my little goodies in there.
I have no idea why she concluded that letting a 7-year-old bake in a regular oven was somehow less dangerous than the Easy-Bake, but I'm sure the cakes came out tasting a lot better.
And for the record, she did eventually buy me an Easy-Bake Oven - last year at a yard sale. I guess she figured at age 39 I could finally handle myself okay around light bulbs. Thanx Mom :)