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Dear Diary – Week #Lucky13 started well because this arrived.

Actually, it arrived at the neighbour’s. I was eating oatmeal on the couch in my pjs, and playing my word scramble game. I heard the delivery guy knock. I also heard my neighbour yell at the poor delivery guy that it was the wrong address, and then yell out my house number. Yes, my neighbour was too lazy to put it on my front porch and knock, preferring instead to make the delivery guy trudge back through the pouring rain to get it. I made a point of profusely thanking the very soggy sojourner for delivery my wares.

Despite having a drawer full, I’ve gotten a little bored with my vast tea selection. At last count, in April 2018, I had 70 flavours. But in my defence, there was a good sale on…and mother’s day is coming…and my friend’s birthday…and they finally (FINALLY) had 2 of my favourites back in stock: Cardamom French Toast and Lemon Pound Cake. (Is it weird that I like tea that tastes like dessert?) So I set a budget and shopped. I stayed in budget and now I have a box full of wonders to entertain me for, like 5 minutes. Yeah!

Shopping is actually very similar to farming a field. You can’t keep buying the same thing, you have to have a bit of variety. Otherwise you get bored and stop enjoying yourself.

Sophie Kinsella, Confessions of a Shopaholic

Dear Diary – Speaking of neighbours, we’ve been hearing ours a lot more lately. We live in a semi-detached house so it’s like living in an apartment. There’s only so much privacy.

Thunder Nugget, aka Thumper, the little girl next door, has finally hit the “terrible twos”. She’s 4 or 5 years old. I chalk it up to a lot of energy + permissive parents. In fact, her Mom encourages her to be rowdy; Mom can cheer even louder than Thumper.

We have no objection to squeals of delight in a game of tag, or her joyous delight in bathtime. It reminds us of earlier days. We object to pounding up the stairs and between rooms for over an hour, and standing at the top of the stairs shrieking for a parent to entertain her, NOW. With the province on the brink of another heavy-duty lockdown (which, to be honest, is how I’ve been living for the past year anyway) with virtual learning full days, we may be enduring some rockin’ long days. It’s great that her parents are trying to set boundaries, which is a challenge at every age. I have a teenager, remember? But Thumper’s temper tantrums are the full-on, high-pitched screaming, wailing, stomping feet kind that leaves everyone exhausted. Us included.

There are moments when I want to full-on scream and stamp my feet in response. But I’m an adult, most of the time. These will survive this and they don’t need us piling on.

I’m just praying one of us will have moved before she turns 13…

Hey teens! If you think you’re angry now, wait until you have to spend your hard earned money on toilet paper!

Dear Diary – I baked shortbread cookies this week, shaped like hearts, with the last of my precious butter. I took meticulous care to ensure they were all rolled the same thickness, even rolling some individual hearts and recutting them so they were perfect. I took care to set the timer on the microwave (since someone broke my piggy timer) and set it for less time than they needed so I could watch them closely.

We don’t know what happened. The timer never went. It might have been messed up when Hubby used the microwave. By the time I smelled burning, it was too late. They were the colour of chocolate brownies. Hubby, who has no sense of taste, said he could taste them. Ugh!

If anyone suggests I write a baking diary instead of a covid diary, I would have to remind them that there are only so many adjectives in the English language for “burnt offerings”.

I finished meticulously preparing and baking the remaining dough and I am hoarding my hearts like Gollam, at least until I have time to make icing bunnies. And even then, if I am successful, they may remain forever on a plate under glass.

My bookie is open now if you want to lay your bets. The odds of success are not really in my favour! 😉

Dear Diary – I think I have a problem. I went to the craft store for meringue powder and came home with fabric.

Dear Diary – I started physiotorture physiotherapy this week, and she is determined to poke, prod and twist me like a pretzel so I not only regain the ability to shave my armpit without standing on my head, but also to have perfect posture. I’m diligently doing my exercises daily, despite the complaints and disturbing noises my body is making. Perhaps by the time I can line up for my covid vaccine, I can convince everyone to join me in doing “the wave”.Woo!

Dear Diary – Would Easter be Easter without hot cross busn? Absolutely! But I decided to try baking them anyway. True to form, I was well into the recipe, beyond the point of turning back, when I realized the recipe I chose used a bread machine. I am our bread machine. Once again, I was required to employ my baking instinct (and again, if I had any instinct, I would have ordered buns from the grocery store). I read a few other recipes to determine how to mix with my mixer (why not use it if I’ve got it) and how long I should prove the dough, and I did that. I had 12 beautiful buns. Then I realized that breadmaker probably did the first prove and those buns probably needed to prove a second time. I knew my guys wouldn’t accept dinner at bedtime; I was seriously out of time. I baked those buns with only one prove. They were light and fluffy like a dinner roll and I haven’t had any complaints.

The next day, I made another 12 buns using a different recipe, with more spices and 2 proving times. I even made a glaze for them. It’s supposed to be an orange glaze but I didn’t have any orange juice. So…they have a 5Alive glaze, and it tastes just fine!

Persistence is very important. You should not give up unless you are forced to give up.

Elon Musk

Dear Diary – Mom told me there was a multi-vehicle collision in town yesterday. One of the injured was on the way to pick up groceries…so the fire department picked them up for the injured driver instead. Just one of the blessings of small town life.

Dear Diary – Mother Nature has a sense of humour. It snowed this morning.

This afternoon, we’ve been advised to tune in for an important covid announcement. I think Easter will be “cancelled”.

I don’t need April Fool’s Day. My whole life is one big joke!