Squeezing a little summertime in

My face smells like a grapefruit. It's wonderful and tingly feeling. I bought a new pink grapefruit face wash today, and I was so tempted to try tasting a little squirt. I declined, as I have been trying to follow the eating rules of "Women, Food, and Good." Or at least the few rules I gleaned from skimming the book instead of reading it cover to cover. Somehow, I think eating my face wash would be frowned upon and relate back to an emotional crisis from my childhood.

Not that I haven't been eating, because I have been eating, praying, and loving like nobody's business. Well, a little stingy on the romantic loving, but behold the fruits of my labor:


This is Martha Stewart's recipe for raspberry almond blondies, before going into the oven.


These are said blondies after baking alongside brown butter toffee blondies.


Pie before baking. I saw an MS recipe for blueberry pie with stars for the crust, but I thought my family would prefer cherry, and I couldn't find the star cookie cutter.


The finished product.

I've been working my way through Martha Stewart's baking books, reading over each recipe. I found making pie dough from scratch to be a lot simpler than I'd imagined. I think I'll experiment more with pie dough in the future. I'd like to add a cinnamon sugar mixture to the dough for an apple pie or even a bit of Gruyere cheese (and homeopathic mood enhancers) to the crust like in "Pushing Daisies."

Maybe baking while dieting is contradictory, but that's how I roll. Oops. Did I say "dieting"? I meant "ending my war on food."

I've also been reading any book that strikes my fancy before I buckle down with the scholarly stuff for grad school.

My Name is Memory by Ann Brashares was a great escape through time and places, while one guy recalls all of his past lives as he continuously searches for the same girl. I hope there is a sequel in the works, because the ending left much to be desired.

Invisible Monsters by Chuck Palahniuk. I don't know how many times I have picked up this book only to put it back down again. I ravenously read Lullaby and Diary. But this... oh this one should have been scrapped, I'm afraid. I'd still like to finish it before I move on to his other stuff like Pygmy, Snuff, Choke or Tell All. I just don't think I like his female narrators. They are like men with boobs.

Self Help by Lorrie Moore. This collection of short stories makes me want to write like I did when I was a kid. No limitations. Just my imagination and characters roaming the great blank page. Her story "How to be a Writer" is flawless.

I Like You by Amy Sedaris. The coffee table book of choice.

The Babysitters Club: The Summer Before. The newly released prequel to the beloved series for every girl growing up in the '90s. I really, REALLY want to be part of a grown-woman BSC book club. Just putting that out there.

Uncharted Territori by Tori Spelling. Celebrity memoirs are my literary vice.

Next up: The Lonely Polygamist, Generation A, Sex and the City, and Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs. Oh, and Martha Stewart's book on cupcakes. I think there is just enough time left of summer to see what the rich, old bird is going to teach me about cupcakes.