it's enough to disgust ya...

Just when I get going again, tragedy strikes. My blogging may have a bare spot for a bit. (Not that you're not used to it.) I turned off the computer before I went to bed last night and the computer refuses to light its little blue lights and whir into action. *sniff, sniff* It's not fair! So I'm off to start the day having snuck onto Dug's computer before he gets up for work. That's my update. See you soon! (I hope.)

an experience only angels have known...

I have a secret. And while you may think revealing it online with the possibility of millions of people learning it will change my circumstances, I would beg to differ. You knowing my secret means nothing unless you are in a position to affect my situation. More than likely you're not. And so revealing it, doesn't necessarily reveal it. Oh! the irony! But onwards...

I'm willing to share this with you because it will improve your life. Drastically. Are you sufficiently curious? Is your appetite whetted? Very well...

I have found that a dried pear from a bag of Mariani Orchard Delight (snagged at Costco) dipped rather generously in God's almost-perfect nut spread, Nutella (we're talking at least a tablespoon, folks), is sinfully heavenly. Only an oxymoron could be used to describe the marriage of these two ingredients. There is no other way to communicate to you the splendor that your mouth experiences when you cram the entire combination in your mouth in one bite. (And yes, I'm aware that Nutella is made with hydrogenation, hence the descriptor "almost-perfect.")

But technically, that's only half of the privileged information that up until now only I knew. Part B being that I consume this delightful treat in my pantry. Never have I eaten it in the full-disclosure of my kitchen. Once, I brought a sample to the Dug, but he was playing LOTRO and while he commented on how good it was, his focus was not entirely centered on his mouth. Obviously. If he had used even a tenth of his powers of concentration he would have been unable to keep his thoughts on the peril his Captain was currently facing, outnumbered by angry, blood-thirsty Uruk-hai.

And while I do not fear my hubbers having full knowledge of the joy that can be had in the confines of my pantry, I can not allow my children this understanding. That could lead only to certain disaster. I've already had to move the Nutella up and out of sight to keep my shelves from obtaining small chocolate-hazelnut flavored fingerprints during the morning hours of which I'm unable to extricate myself from the comfort of my cream-colored, paisley sateen sheets.

So, now you have full disclosure. And in doing so and sharing the deliciousness that I have come to know, I also make myself vulnerable. You have power. If my children are made aware of this hidden pleasure the current amount of elbow grease I own will not be sufficient for the cleaning that will ensue, which will also decrease the available Nutella, bringing on the wrath of the Dug. For to Dug, Nutella is a sacred spread to be savored, slowly. (Ahhh. Alliteration.)

What will you do with this knowledge? In the words of the Templar Knight, "Choose wisely."

As for me, I'm off to my pantry...

pseudo-insomnia redux

I'm doing it again. Dug had to go to New Jersey for a training thingy and I should have been in bed two hours ago. Why do I do this to myself?

On another note, I did make cinnamon rolls from scratch, with the kids' help. That's what we had for dinner. Cinnamon rolls and milk. I couldn't handle it everyday, but it's definitely a fun switch from the norm. Don't tell Dug. He'll be sad he missed it. Although I do know that he got to go to Outback Steakhouse so I don't feel too bad for him. We saved three for him, but the kids ate them. What can I say? We tried.