English

If I were to have a most disliked word in the English language... it would either be "initiation" or "hate"

Dino Dukies!!!!

While I take credit for perfecting the exact measurements and time to boil these lovely treats known as Dino Dukies (or, No Bake Chocolate Cookies, for boring people...!!), I must also give credit to Paula Prince! From whom the recipe was originally stolen!

Add:
1 stick butter
2 cups sugar
1/4 cup cocoa
1/2 cup milk

In a pot! Mix, cook on medium high - high (Stir continually or your chocolate will burn!!). Just before it reaches a full boil, set a timer for 1 minute and 30 seconds (for Texas!) or, 1 minute and 20 seconds (for Idaho!). Perhaps a few seconds longer if it's raining or something.

Turn off, and add 1/2 cup peanut butter. Stir in the peanut buuter, and then remove from the hot stove. Mix in 2 1/2 cups of 1 minute Oats (or until it looks good!)

Immediately spoon out onto tin foil or wax paper and let cool / set up!

ENJOY!!!! ^_^

Imminence

The future seems to be a massive blog of missing information.
How much stress and frustration is borne on wings of questioning the days to come?

Write my Story

My mind keeps traversing the winds of change.
Sanity is fading and it seems so strange.
Surrounded by the nearing future,
This time might have an author.

Food for Thought

"Run mad as often as you choose, but do not faint"

Jane Austen's
Mansfield Park

Drawn Nigh to my Bosom

There is no greater pain, no greater estrangement from sanity, than the piercing daggers of love refrained. When he yet loved ignores or even lies ignorant of that very love you feel, he may very well draw himself nigh unto thy bosom in need of comfort or even in the blissful tenderness of slumber. In such a moment a woman must begin to feebly ponder the possibility of a hidden love, that may still reside, unfound, in your other's subconsciousness. And, to smell his scent, so closely to thy face and heart stirs a rippling process that can ne'er be ended without the destruction of ignorance, and then the embracing of feelings past and continually felt. For past can blend to future, and then meld into the present, that all in betweens disappear into a nothing--a nothing more quieted than any Christmas mouse--most likely because it is not fabled, and rather happens as a daily occurrence in the eternal round we fondly refer to as mortality. What is mortality without the mysteries of life, that daily tear us between the woes of pain and joy that we might appreciate the severity and blissful divinity in both emotions?