A rhyming year.

Danny, dear fellow, came up for the holiday. After a smash-bashing dinner with our Uncle (which included the best, no really, the best hamburger I have ever eaten in my entire life) at Big Daddy's, we watched silly movies, such as Salt and the Other Guys. I think we stayed up til 12, but hard to say, as I was so, so tired. The sound of fireworks served as my lullaby as I drifted out of 2010. We were going to go hiking this morning, but Dan is still abed and it looks cloudy and cold out. We will have to find another adventure.

I baked brownies this morning for the Farson New Year's Day Bash. It was a recipe found through my mom, Walnut Lover's Brownies, a Betty Crocker recipe. Sooooo delicious. I thought to myself, "What an easy and yummy recipe to make, that won't require too much effort but will continue to bolster my reputation as the best of cooks." So, with ease and grace, I began to mix and measure. "Hmmmm," I said to myself. "I better double the recipe because everyone will just gobble these delectable bites up!" I added more butter, more sugar, and more walnuts, while the refrain "I am a wonderful cook, I am a wonderful cook, I am a wonderful cook" trickled through my brain. While stirring the topping, my favorite spoon snapped in half, which I mourned briefly, failing to recognize what doom the break augured. I foolishly continued on. The brownies themselves are rich and fudgey, requiring only chocolate, butter, sugar, flour, and eggs. I had just melted the butter and chocolate when I went for the sugar, only to realize I was two whole cups short! "Egads!" I whispered intensely, because Danny was still slumbering peacefully, with no knowledge of the epic storm cloud of disaster forming in the kitchen. "What to do!?!" With just a moments hesitation and no forethought, I began pouring anything sweet into the bowl. I substituted the four cups of white sugar with 1 1/2 cups white sugar, 1/2 cup brown sugar, and 1/2 a teddy bear of honey. "That should do it..." I decided to move forward to the eggs, trusting that all will be well. One, two, three, four, five, six eggs. "Aack! I am two eggs short! With no applesauce or bananas to be found!" I looked frantically between the egg carton and the bowl, hoping that a New Year's Day Miracle would occur, not unlike the Water Glass Miracle Of Christmas Eve. I counted the de-shelled yolks again. "Phew, there are seven. Okay, just one egg short shouldn't be a problem." I moved steadily toward the last step, and poured in all the flour, adding an extra-ish bit to cover the lost egg. "For structure," I nodded approvingly at the flour bin. As I poured the concoction into the pan, it clung to the sides of the bowl, ever reluctant to move, like an primordial amoeba refusing to slither onto the shore despite the promise of its evolution into man. "Get into the pan, yea foul brownie beast!" I commanded. Tamed, the batter did as bidden. I courageously topped the batter with the walnuts and sent the whole lot into the oven. Where it sits, while I wait to see what will emerge.

Twenty-seven in Two Thousand and Eleven. A rhyming year. A good sign.