Who Ever Thought to Put Butter in Milk?

I think by the end of this post I will have neither gained nor lost any sense of masculinity. It all evens out. I think.

So today I woke up and decided it would be scone day. For the non-sentimentalists, skip the rest of this paragraph. Anyway, I had often made scones with my great-grandmother (bless her pointed heart, she's 99 years old!) when I'd go visit. I was formally trained in the 5th grade when I had to bring in "ethnic" food for a cultural project or something. The scones, which are small biscuit-like treats, are supposed to go with tea; the tea was hardly touched, the scones went fast. My great-grandmother's recipe (which I choose to believe was handed down through generations of Scots and later, Scottish-Americans) calls for buttermilk (wtf is buttermilk anyway?) and I just happened to have some sitting around (seriously). So I took to kitchen and griddled up some scones. It smelled like my youth, which was apparently buttermilk-y. Last thing: my family pronounces "scone" like "skahn," as if it rhymes with con or John. According to Wikipedia, 99% of legit Scots say it this way. That's good enough for me.

Right, so I made biscuits. I then turned my eyes to Ben's bunch of browning bananas. Knowing that like my great-grandmother, Ben wouldn't eat his bananas with much brown on them (sorry to call you out Ben, do you even read this?), I asked if I could use them to make banana bread. Delighting in the opportunity to see his bananas go from rags-to-riches, he donated them to the cause. So I made banana nut bread. It is tasty. If you want some, send check or money order.

As if biscuits and bread weren't enough, I made beef stroganoff for dinner. I felt a little more manly after that, mainly because I had raw beef juice on my hands, as if I had just wrangled a cow into a small pot. Leaving the meat to cook, I turned to Pat and asked him the name of our intramural hockey team. You read correctly: I'm playing on an intramural hockey team (The Fighting Findorffs), and will likely be soundly beaten (and possibly outscored) at each game. But it's hockey! So that should be fun.

Other things of interest: the laundry at Heritage Commons is free right now (as in doesn't cost money, score!), we're supposed to wake up in the morning and find ourselves encased in ice, GBD shirt sales are steadily coming in, and I found a crinkled-up $5 bill in my pocket from when I was in Michigan. That's all I've got for now.

Currently Listening to: Mars, the Bringer of War, by The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. It's like Gladiator meets the Death Star blowing up all over Pirates of the Caribbean.