06 March 2006

cookie monster

So, I baked cookies in Belfast. But they weren't quite as good as I'd hoped. They were yummy, don't get me wrong. But I felt compelled to improve. I'm my own harshest critic. And if you'd ever met my mother, you'd know that's saying something. Anyway, I baked another batch tonight. And they were really good. Too good. I ate lots. So I'm still in the midst of a sugar rush, trying to sort through bank statements and attempting to resurrect a long-dead PowerBook G3 for a dear friend in need of a computer that doesn't crash when breathing on it.

Here's a philosophical question - if one travels far for a certain purpose, say to host a wine tasting and doesn't, in fact, host a wine tasting, but still has, as does everyone else, a fantastic time, is that a failure? Answers in comments.

And yes, I know I'm deluding myself, as comments are so rare, but go on, leave a comment. I don't bite.

Unless it's a cookie.

1 comment:

a said...

Er. I can't think of anything witty to say this morning. But I'm commenting, see? I want a cookie.