Battle Jacket

I didn't know that I needed a project until I gained a project. My husband had this brain child where he wanted a battle jacket.  I will be honest. I had no idea what he was talking about for a moment, but having watched a fair number of post apocalyptic movies and listening to punk rock, I could envision a little of what he meant by a battle jacket as he started to describe what he had in mind.  It was a jacket that had patches all over it of things that he felt were cool. Patches of things that he represented. Patches that would bolster his sense of self and make him ready to do battle.

My support in his brain child, is that after he did the hard part of ironing, I would sew the patches on for additional stability. (I really hate ironing. Sewing is cheesecake.)  I had no idea there were so many patches out there.  As they began to trickle in, the plain canvas jacket slowly became something infinitely more awesome.  I have to admit that it is becoming increasingly fun, trying to find a patch that my husband will go nuts over.  This is a unique art form of self expression that is testing my abilities with a sewing machine.  It is a weird sort of sense of accomplishment when I sew an extra difficult patch on.  My husband is is full of high fives and praise when we get another patch finished and it feels lie we are team awesome.  While I was not instantly on board when he explained his project idea, I have certainly seen the light and have found something to love about this project.

Secret Twins

I have been friends with my best friend for about 20-25 years. When we were in the bonny days of our youth, we could be mistaken as twins. Our fair hair and bright smiles coupled with enthusiasm for adventure made us an unseparatable duo. When we got older, we met boys, got married and moved away in various orders.  Some thing, despite the move stayed the same.  An example of this weird world of coincidences between us, is that we both have chunky orange cats.  I am sure that lots of people have chunky orange cats, but ours could pass as twins, much like her and I could in our younger days.

I think our cats are secret twins.  Here are a couple pictures of her cat, Oscar and my cat Iggins to see if any one can tell the difference.

Is this Iggins? Or is this Oscar?

Who does this fluffy belly belong to?

Blueberry Buckle

Why is it called a "Buckle"?  That is the question my husband had for me when tasting the latest Pinterest experiment. It has been a long tradition for me that when I work a Saturday, I bring breakfast in and I let one of my coworkers pick what they want for breakfast.  I think that if given the choice most people would rather not work on a Saturday.  Having something good to eat makes the pain of having to work on a Saturday a little more bearable.

Some Saturdays I make quiche, burritos and sometimes even snowman pancakes.  This latest Saturday that I worked, one of my coworkers requested blueberry muffins.  I will admit that I hate my muffin tin.  The way that I want things to turn out and the way that they do turn out are often times on opposite ends of the spectrum.  However, it was the mighty Pinterest to the rescue. Blueberry Buckle from Just A Pinch Recipes is just like a blueberry muffin, with out the muffin liner. The body is nice and moist and there is a crumble top that I could happily pick at.

Not all of my Pinterest experiments are excellent. (Yes, I am talking about you American Goulash, no hard feelings.) I was exceedingly pleased that this one turned out well and can double as a coffee cake in a pinch.  The only hiccup in the entire process was not knowing what size pan to use.  I used a 9 x 5 pan and ended up with the buckle in the over about ten minutes longer than the suggested cook time, because it  did not pass the tooth pick test.  There is also the possibility that my oven is old and temperatures may vary.  In the end it didn't really matter that much, because the finished products was delicious. It made my morning cup of tea a delight and provided smiles and satisfied stomachs to my coworkers.  The only thing left is to try and find out why it is called a buckle and not a belt.