I’m trying to make money by not making money. Genius.

It’s only day 2 of Easter break and everyone’s already bored out of their skulls. Yesterday, Corrupted Brother was walking in circles in the kitchen, licking a Triscuit, and humming Fur Elise for a good five minutes. Yeah, it’s that bad.

I’m not taking a break this week because I’m a bit behind in school and I just need to finish. I’m so unmotivated to do school, so I’ve decided to plan things to look forward to this summer. Brilliant plan, no? I work well for incentives. Mainly Rolos. My siblings got a bunch of those for Easter and I’ve been living off of them. I’m pretending that they’re fruits and vegetables so I actually have a balanced diet. And starches. And meats. Hey, I have a weakness for candy. Don’t be a hater.

This summer is going to be insane, though. All I want to do is make money so I actually have money to spend on food in college. So far, I’m only volunteering. Logic at its finest. Earlier today, I filled out an application so I can volunteer at a local children’s hospital. I’m hoping to volunteer a few days a week this summer so that I can get a feel for the pediatric hospital environment, since that’s where I’m thinking of working after I graduate from nursing school. Anyway, it’s volunteer, so no payment there. I’m also hoping to volunteer in a lab where a friend of my grandpa’s works. I guess I’ll continue teaching piano, but that only pays so much. Basically I’m just going to have a humungous graduation party where you’ll all shower me with gifts and money because I’m broke.

I had a productive day applying for stuff that will make me absolutely no money. Know what else I did today? I looked at the return policy for a pair of running shoes I bought last week. They’re the barefoot trail shoes, which I was hoping would help me not be so incredibly sore when I run. But guess what? I opened the box yesterday to try on the shoes, AND MY DANG FEET ARE TOO WIDE. I think God sort of fell asleep at the wheel when he was designing me. He accidentally gave me bricks for feet. So I’m returning them. Speaking of running, I’m running a 5K on Saturday! And guess what! I totally hurt my knee yesterday! I’m pretty much an invalid right now. I feel like Crutchy from Newsies, minus the fact that I’m not a dude with a bad fake Brooklyn accent. That movie is so horrible, it’s good. I’m hoping whatever I did to my knee heals up before Saturday. I AM running/walking/limping the race. I dropped 40 bucks on this race, and last time I checked, I was still a poor, struggling student.

But you know what fixes all of life’s ills? Sour cream coffee cake. This stuff is the bomb… and I didn’t even get to eat it. We gave it to my mom’s friend who just had a baby. I absolutely hate giving away food I made. Not only do I not get to eat it, but I’m never sure if it’s cooked all the way through or it tastes good. First world chef problems for real, but I hate it. Anyway, here’s the coffee cake that I didn’t actually get to enjoy. It’s one of my favorite foods, so I’d strongly recommend making it. Or you can just go lick a Triscuit. That’s what all the cool kids do.

Sour Cream Coffee Cake

Cake:

1/2 cup butter, room temperature
1 cup granulated sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla

2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
pinch of salt

1 cup sour cream

Topping:

2/3 cup brown sugar
2 teaspoons cinnamon

1. Preheat oven to 350F.

2. Beat the butter and granulated sugar together. Beat in two eggs, mixing thoroughly after each one. Add vanilla.

3. In a separate bowl (you gotta keep it separated…), combine the flour, baking powder and soda, and salt. Slowly add the flour mixture to the butter/sugar mixture, stirring until combined. Wallop in the sour cream. Is wallop a word? I know dollop is. I’m too lazy to look it up and there isn’t a red squiggly line under it, so it must be a word. Duh.

4. In yet another separate bowl, mix together the brown sugar and cinnamon. Um, that’s it.

5. Grease a bundt ban (well, it’s actually more of a pan used for angel food cake, but I’m not sure what to call it), and layer 1/2 of the batter in it. Sprinkle 2/3 of the topping (didn’t think you’d have a math lesson, huh?), then the rest of the batter, and the rest of the topping. Let’s review: batter, topping, batter, topping. Right then.

6. Bake at 350 for 40-50 minutes.

7. Yum.

Pie and my brothers. Right there you can tell it’s going to be a great blog post.

I don’t like pie. I won’t restrain myself from eating an entire pie if it was placed in front of me, but I won’t go out of my way to make/eat one. Since we had a pie crust in the fridge that was best by Tuesday, I figured I had to make a pie. And make one I did.

I’m not sure about you, but I live in the Midwest. (Silently in your head) Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure we don’t grow any fruit here. Ok, I know we do, but we don’t have oranges like Florida or…uhhh… basically, I have no idea what I’m talking about here. The point of all of this is we had 2 bananas and 3 apples in our fruit basket and you can’t make a pie with those. Side note: I refuse to eat bananas because their edible shelf life is like 30 seconds. You get them and they’re like GREENGREENGREENGREENGREENyellowBROWNBROWNBROWN. They’re mean and therefore I boycott them. So I used canned peaches. I wrote an entire paragraph about I don’t even know what just to say that I used canned peaches to make a pie. And the best part is that I’m not going to rewrite it because I’m lazy.

This pie was hit and miss among my siblings. I ate two slices with Moose Tracks ice cream and it was quite delicious. There’s still half a pie left so I guess I’m going to have to eat that too. I know it would be much better with fresh peaches and not 3 cans of Costco peaches.

That’s really all I’ve got on the subject of pie. Because I have nothing else to say, here’s a story from the Italiana household.

My brothers were playing Monopoly earlier today and Future Chef Brother got a hotel. Evil Scientist Brother got really mad and said, “Fine. Now you have to go kiss a hobo.” Future Chef said, “But I don’t want to!” and Evil Scientist responded, “Oh, I see. You want to wait until AFTER you’re married to kiss him.”

There’s never a dull moment in this house. Also, I just hit 350 Pinterest followers. I love being loved by people I’ll never actually meet.

Peach pie

From I’mastinkingliar.com

1 8-inch pie plate

1 unbaked pie crust
1/2 cup chopped walnuts (Or not. Legumes don’t belong in pies, unless we’re talking about pecan pie, in which I approve.)
1/2 cup unbleached flour
1/3 cup brown sugar
1/3 white sugar plus 1 tsp. reserved
3 cans of sliced peaches in light syrup, drained
6 tsp. white sugar
1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp. nutmeg
2 tbsp. organic butter, chilled (I left in the organic part from the original recipe because it made me laugh. We’re a family of 9. There’s no way we’re spending the extra money to buy organic butter.)

1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit.

2. Combine the chopped walnuts, brown and white sugars, and flour in a small bowl. Set aside for the topping.

3. Place the pie crust into your pie pan and crimp the edges as beautifully as I crimped mine. Oof. Sprinkle the bottom of the crust with 1 tsp. of reserved white sugar.

4. Pour the canned peaches into a colander, rinse with fresh water, drain and gently pat dry.

5. Combine the peaches, cinnamon, nutmeg and 6 tsp. of sugar in a medium-sized bowl. Mix gently with your hands or a wooden spoon to blend. I recommend a spoon because that just sounds nasty.

6. Put half of the sliced peaches into the pie crust. Sprinkle half of the walnut (I can’t be friends with you if you added walnuts), flour and sugar topping over the peaches and top with the remaining fruit.

7. Sprinkle the second half of the topping over the peaches and dot with pea-sized crumbles of the organic butter. Stir to combine because I had flour on top of mine that didn’t soak in while it was baking. Mmm, nothing like the taste of dry flour with your canned peaches.

8. Bake the pie on the middle rack of the oven for 15 minutes. Reduce the temperature to 325 Fahrenheit and bake for an additional 25 minutes.

9. Om nom nom.

Don’t grow up, kids. It’s a trap.

You know what’s horrible about growing up? It’s no longer socially acceptable to build forts or jump on the living room furniture to avoid landing on the carpet which is unfortunately made of lava. Well, I guess I still could, but people would think there’s something wrong with me. And I’d also probably break the couch and a limb.

A few days ago I went to the City Museum. For those of you who don’t live in St. Louis and are looking for something to do when you visit (you know you want to), I strongly recommend going to the City Museum. If you’re over the age of 12 you can only go once. Every time after that it just gets boring and depressing. I remember being so scared of it when I was little. There is one dark part called the caves that I was so terrified of, but when I went through them the other day the only thing I was terrified of was throwing up because the whole thing smelled rank. It was really disappointing. My favorite part was the ten story slide, but I had to climb up ten flights of stairs just to get to it, and it wasn’t worth it.

Last night I went to go see Monsters, Inc. with my friend. We were going to go by ourselves until we realized that two 17 year old girls going to see a movie that came out when we were 7 really is a bit lame, so we took Sister Celiac along. Because bringing along a 13 year old definitely makes things better? There were only four other people there, and we were the only ones between the ages of 6 and 30. We all had a lot of fun and I always forget how sad I get at the end of the movie…

As if I couldn’t get any older, I opened a checking account yesterday. I had a moment of panic because I was afraid that the woman who helped me with it would have me practice writing a check. All of the sudden I couldn’t remember how to spell forty. I couldn’t remember if there was a u in it or not and I was like OH NO. I’M GOING TO LOOK LIKE A MORON IF SHE ASKS ME TO WRITE A CHECK FOR $40. Luckily she didn’t. I also ordered checks, and no one supported my decision to buy ones with Batman on them. I basically got bullied into getting my second choice which was polka dots. No one appreciates my love of Batman. But the good news is, heh heh, I underestimated the amount of moolah I had in my Ireland Fund. Unfortunately, I think the Ireland Fund is going to turn into the Ramon Noodles Fund. I’ve been thinking about whether or not I want to continue blogging in college, and at first I wasn’t going to since I wouldn’t be able to really cook. But then I looked at my follower count and I’m like hey, I have over 120 followers here that I wouldn’t want to let down. So I’m going to attempt to cook in college… I’m going to spend all of my money on stupid food just to make you guys happy. That’s how much I love you.

Also, I have two cups of caramel sauce left over. You’re welcome to come over and eat it straight out of the jar with me.

Gluten Free Flourless Chocolate Cake

From AllRecipies

1 cup butter, cubed (I accidentally only used one stick and it tastes fine)
8 ounces semisweet chocolate, chopped (I just used regular chocolate chips because I’m not that fancy)
1 1/4 cups white sugar
1 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
6 eggs

1 1/2 cups white sugar
1/4 cup water
1 1/2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
1 cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons unsalted butter

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Butter the bottom of a 10 inch springform pan, and line with parchment paper. I recently figured out that if you trace the bottom of the pan and then cut it out, you’ll get a nice even circle that fits in the bottom of it. Yeah.

2. Melt the butter in a large saucepan over low heat. Stir in chocolate, and continue to stir until almost melted. Remove from heat, and stir until melted and smooth. I’m not sure why you have to remove it from the heat before it’s completely melted, but whatever. In a large bowl, stir together 1 1/4 cups sugar and the cocoa powder. Whisk in the eggs until well blended, then whisk in the chocolate and butter. I love being able to whip out my whisk. It’s pretty much my favorite cooking utensil, in case you cared. Pour the batter into the prepared pan.

3. Bake for about 45 minutes in the preheated oven. The cake is ready when the edges have nicely puffed and the surface is firm except for a small spot in the center that will jiggle when the pan is gently shaken. Cool cake in the pan over a wire rack. Run a knife around the sides of the pan to loosen the cake, then remove the sides of the pan, and invert onto a serving plate. Remove the parchment paper.

4. In a heavy saucepan, stir together 1 1/2 cups of sugar, water, and lemon juice. Bring to a boil over medium heat, and cook without stirring until the syrup is a deep amber color. For an accurate color check, dip a metal spoon into the syrup and lift it out of the pan to check the color. Once the syrup is amber, remove from the heat. Gradually stir in the cream. The mixture will bubble vigorously and freak you out. At least that’s what happened to me. If lumps form, stir gently over low heat to dissolve them. Stir in 2 tablespoons of butter.

5. Cut the cake into wedges while warm, and serve with caramel sauce spooned over it. You can also chill the cake and sauce, then warm again before serving.

5. Mentally thank me for giving you this wonderful recipe.

I’ve hit blogger’s block.

Do you ever have one of those days where you feel so boring that you’d be genuinely shocked if people told you otherwise? I’ve been having quite a few of those lately. Hence, no blogging. It’s not that I don’t want to blog, it’s more of there’s a whole lot of lack of creativity going on. I wish my creativity was one long, continuous, rippling stream of interesting stories and funny pictures that flowed on forever and glistened in the sun. Instead, my creativity is like a flash flood that lets water leak into your basement and makes the dumpsters behind your house float down the alley. All of that almost made sense to me. I am the Queen of giving examples that are almost intelligent, and honey, you should see me in a crown.

You know that moment right as you’re falling asleep that you either think of all the horrible things you’ve ever done, brilliant ideas, or monsters? That’s when I usually get my bursts of inspiration to cook or blog or basically do anything. For example, the other night I was about to pass out when I thought of the perfect way to break into someone’s house who has a dog: bring a vacuum cleaner and a broom. It doesn’t matter how brave and protective my dog Gemma would feel right as someone was coming in, because the second they turn on that vacuum, she’d probably pee on the floor and run into her crate. And then the bad guys would steal all the bacon we have in the freezer and that’s just not cool. Anyway, the inspirations come and go and by the time I wake up in the morning I’m not thinking, “Wow, I want to go teach myself how to yodel!” I’m thinking, “I. Hate. Mornings.” Not as impressive.

Lately, I’ve been stuck in this rut of blah-ness. I’ve written short stories and all that helped with was figuring out I can’t write short stories. I got 4 or 5 pages into writing one about a grandma who mysteriously doesn’t show up for her weekly bingo game and then reveals that she’s running from the government because she’s a treasonist just to realize that I really can’t write short stories. I went to see a movie, and that didn’t help either. Which movie? Why Lincoln, of course. Only because Joseph Gordon-Levitt was in it. Let me break things down for you: I love that guy. Of course I was going to see a new movie he’s in. So yes, I went into Lincoln not caring at all about the actual movie. I went for Joseph Gordon-Levitt. If that isn’t depressing then I don’t know what is. Turns out I loved Lincoln. LOVED. There were no battles (expect for about 20 seconds at the beginning of the movie) and really not much excitement, but it was funny and very King’s Speech-esque. Daniel Day Lewis did an amazing job at being Lincoln and Sally Field did an amazing job at playing psycho Mary Todd Lincoln. And Joseph Gordon-Levitt? Yeah, he had seriously 3 lines. Maybe 4. And an incredibly cheesy mustache. And he cried. I was borderline unimpressed, but don’t tell him that. It’ll ruin my chances of ever being with a celebrity 14 years older than I am. Shhhh.

I even went running, hoping that I’ll become an athlete who runs every day and feels great because of it. About 20 seconds into the run, my brain went, “You know what you haven’t done for a while? Hurt. Here, let me make your hip kill you to the point of you having to limp home and not being able to move your leg for the next day or 2.” Dear brain, I hate you. Love, Picco.

The short stories didn’t work, the movie didn’t work, the exercise didn’t work. I feel like this is Web MD and I’m trying to find a cure for my lack of creativity. I’m exhausting all the possible treatments for my sickness and still ending up with death. This post is incredibly descriptive, if I may say so. But my attempted dramatic Web MD bit sort of fell flat.

So basically, I’ve been unmotivated to do anything other than watch Fringe. And now that I’ve finished 4 seasons in 3 months, I’ve got nothing to do. I need to join a bookclub or something… or learn how to knit. Or rewatch Fringe. These are all very good options.

Looking back, I realize that this post really has no point other than, outside of doing school, I’m bored and stuck.  Is this what a mid-life crisis feels like? Wait, I’m only 17. I’m going to die when I’m 34? Well. This is just lovely. Luckily, I know some pretty cool people who are willing to do stuff with me like go to the movies or let me help paint their room, and then back me into a freshly-painted wall and make me get paint in my hair, and then decide that we should go to Steak n Shake while I’m covered in paint. Yeah, great friends. So seriously, guys, we should start a bookclub. Or a Fringeclub? Same thing. I’m just trying to make an excuse for my lack of blogging, since I’ve had a few people come up to me lately saying “Uhhh, blog post, please? Reading your posts is like the coolest thing I do each day.” Maybe they don’t say that last part.

Also, molasses smells disgusting.

Gingerbread Men

Adapted from Gluten-Free Baking Classics by Annalise Roberts

1/4 cup vegetable shortening (we were out, so I had my dad get some from the store and he came back with the entire Crisco factory. We have 3 pounds of it, if anyone wants to share.)
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 egg yolk
2 tablespoons molasses
1 cup gluten-free flour (today, I used King Arthur’s multi-purpose flour)
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 xanthan gum
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon powdered ginger
1/4 ground cloves
1/8 teaspoon salt (also known as just a pinch. who the heck has an 1/8 teaspoon?)

1. Beat shortening and sugar in a large bowl of an electric mixer until and creamy. Beat in egg yolk and molasses and mix until smooth. Don’t sniff the molasses. It’s awful. I know first-hand.

2. Add flour, baking soda, xanthan gum, cinnamon, ginger, cloves, and salt. Mix until a soft dough forms. Roll dough between two sheets of wax paper to about 1/4 inch thick. Refrigerate until well chilled (I chilled it for about 2 hours).

3. Preheat oven to 350F. Position rack in center of oven. Lightly grease a cookie sheet with cooking spray or Crisco. We have plenty, if you need some.

4. Use cookie cutters that may or may not have to do with Christmas to cut out cookies. Hey, we have cool shamrock ones that I wanted to use… Place on cookie sheet 1/2 inch apart. The cookbook said to chill the cutout cookies on the cookie sheet until very cold before baking them, but I skipped that part. Because I live on the edge.

5. Bake 6-8 minutes. Check at 6 because they burn quickly. Not that I know this. Transfer to a wire rack and let cool. Decorate to your heart’s content.

6. Try not to eat all of them at once.

Just an introvert girl living in a loud world.

You know what’s wrong with the world? People don’t think before they speak.

The other day Sister Celiac was talking to a girl about my new brother. The girl asked, “So, how’s your baby brother?” When my sister said that he’s great, the girl said, “Oh cool. Is there anything wrong with him?”

I’m sorry, what? What if he was born with three arms and we were going to have one surgically removed but didn’t want anyone to know about it? My sister isn’t even KIND OF friends with this girl, so why should she tell her, “Well, we’re not really telling anyone, but he’s actually a monkey.” Oh great, now you guys know our secret. This is awkward.

I know quite a few people that I simply can’t have a normal conversation with. Now granted, most of them are teenagers, but I’m not sure how good of an excuse that is. A good conversation consists of asking questions and telling stories, right? If I’m ever talking to one of those people, the conversation is just them talking over me and bragging or making stupid comments. They always feel the need to one-up me in everything. I once had a guy ask me how long I’ve played violin. When I told him 14 years, he immediately told me how he’s played for 6 years and had already learned Mozart’s hardest concerto. Dear Child Prodigy, as my dad always says, “If you have to tell me how great you are, you’re not.” Also, I heard you play and I’m not going to comment on it because I have nothing nice to say.

Better yet is when people don’t just say rude things, but actually do rude things. I can ignore the girl who told me my legs were so big she had no idea how I could fit them into my skinny jeans (When I’m around that girl I have to use every nice molecule in my body to restrain myself from kicking her in the shins. I’ve been successful so far…), but when you forcefully take a drink out of my hand telling me how bad it is for me, then we have a problem.

I’ll admit that I’m very quiet. I’m not as shy as I used to be, but I’m definitely an introvert, and apparently there’s something wrong with that. There’s nothing I hate more than being told I’m quiet. Ok, maybe I hate it second to running my hip into the corner of a table. You do not know pain until you do that. When people tell me I’m quiet I just want to be like, “NO. WAY. I seriously had no idea. Thank you so much for enlightening me,” but I don’t because, hello, introvert. Don’t really talk much. I actually used to get really upset over it. Sometimes to the point of tears. I’m not sure exactly what made (and still sort of makes) me so upset. What I’ve sort of figured out is that since our world is so loud and no one can sit still, I’m the outcast because I’m not dominating a conversation or wanting to party every Friday night or constantly flirting with guys. Because, you know, as if I don’t have a hard enough time fitting in as is. One of the many pros of being introverted is that I think before I speak. Actually, I over-think and run through what I’m going to say 5 times in my head and by the time I’m comfortable to say it, the topic has already changed. Oh well. Better to be thought a fool than to open one’s mouth and remove all doubt, right?

Not to go all psychology on you guys, but what do you think causes people to feel like they can say whatever they want? Is it a lack of manners? Class? Or just insecurity? Or maybe the world just needs more introverts. I’d be totally chill with that.

Also, I used to collect those white pieces of paper at the bottom of Reece’s peanut butter cups. I was a weird kid.

Halloween Candy Cookies

(This recipe is from the back of the box. More or less. I added the candy bit because we have so much Halloween candy left over.)

1 package King Arthur gluten free cookie mix

1/2 cup soft butter

1 large egg

2 tablespoons water

8 frozen Reece’s peanut butter cups, chopped

1/2 cup M&Ms

1.Preheat the oven to 350F.

2. Put about half the cookie mix in a bowl, and beat in the butter. It’s especially fun to beat the butter with the arm you got a flu shot in. Yeah.

3. Beat in the remaining cookie mix, scraping the sides and bottom of the bowl. Add the Reece’s peanut butter cups and M&Ms.

4. Drop by heaping spoonfuls onto ungreased baking sheet, leaving about 2″ between cookies. Gently squish cookies 1/2″ thick. Ok, it said flatten on the box, but I definitely squished the cookies.

5. Bake for 10-12 minutes. Remove from oven and let cookies cool on the pan for 5 minutes, then transfer to a rack to cool completely.

6. Devour. Om nom nom.

This post is in no way sponsored by King Arthur, but I wish it was. Please. I’m not asking for much. Maybe just a few boxes of your cookie mixes or some money. I’d definitely enjoy money.