A rant about cliches, and a cliche recipe.

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On my commute to work every morning, I am fortunate enough to be able to listen to a really great public radio station. I think we can all agree that most morning radio shows are the absolute worst – lots of people babbling on about pop culture nonsense, peppering their banter with obnoxious sound effects. For a long time, I wouldn’t even dream of listening to the radio in the morning – but then the adapter for my iPod/phone broke (first world problems), and because my car is, oh, 12 years old (and will continue to keep on kickin’ for a long time, knock on wood), there’s no little port where I can just plug in my iPod and let it stream without having to fiddle with the radio stations, hoping for a signal and clear feedback. Also, my car is new enough to not have a tape deck, which means I can’t hook up my new-fangled gadgets that way, either.

(This is probably entirely too much information, but please stick around – I made cookies and I’m getting to that.)

So I got tired of my (and Colin’s) CDs and decided to suck it up and just listen to the radio.

There was a pretty good college radio station that had good reception on my old commute, but once I started working at my new job, that station would crap out about .2 minutes into my drive. So I did some channel-surfing, and found a really great public radio station that plays an awesome variety of music, pipes in NPR News hourly, and even has A FREAKING TRIVIA GAME in the morning. Where you can win prizes. Ugh, I love trivia so much. And while the two morning hosts occasionally break in with some banter and weird news stories, they’re endearing as opposed to obnoxious. Like, I kind of want to be friends with them, as creepy as that sounds.

But every once in awhile, they sneak in a song that is just downright terrible. I’m not talking Tiny Tim’s “Tiptoe-Through-the-Tulips” or Richard Harris “MacArthur’s Park” terrible (sorry, Dad, I know you love it), but just something that is an insult to the musical industry – one that, unfortunately, many people might find pleasant or enjoyable. Usually I’m able to just change the station and forget about it, but it’s been a couple of weeks since I heard this song and I’m still furious about it. It’s called “I Don’t Miss You” by some guy named Sharif, and it is literally the most insipid, infuriating song I’ve ever heard. If this song was a person, I’d want to hit it in the face with a shovel, just after I finish bludgeoning every character in Something Borrowed.

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A love letter to chocolate cookies and KitchenAid.

Originally posted April 2012.

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Hmm?

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What’s that?

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Oh, I’m sorry. I couldn’t hear you over the dazzling beauty of my KitchenAid mixer. It’s red, people. RED! 

I’m a bit in love with this stunning little deceptively heavy baby, which, I’m embarrassed to admit, was procured from a former neighbor looking to get the thing off her hands for a fraction of its market price at least two months ago, and I only broke it out for the first time yesterday. 

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To be fair, I rarely bake. I think the last time I baked was…Christmastime. When I made…these exact same cocoa thumbprints.

…I’m giving myself the trademark Moore ‘Look’ right now.

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