As Promised.....

Lynn's fabulous L-O-V-E square, now correctly oriented (not that I would ever judge the orientation of another.....)



and six lovely squares from Renny in Virginia where I believe they must make the women extra special, seeing as how Dianne hails from those parts as well.

I have been edging squares, naturally (although I'm not sure how I'd edge them unnaturally....unless I was standing on my head in a rocking chair using a wire whisk instead of a crochet hook...that'd be pretty unnatural), but also preparing for the Harlot's visit to Seattle this Friday at 6:30. This involves the following:

1. Decide what kind of brownies to make--I brought her brownies last time, and she autographed her most recent book to me as "the brownie queen"...so I really have to live up to that title.
2. Consider and reject several possibilities before settling on the truffle brownies I invented a few years ago.
3. Wonder briefly if Steph could get approval from a cardiologist to eat them, seeing as how just looking at them is enough to slam shut the arteries of some. Remember that she's a vegetarian, and figure she's probably earned some extra chocolate points in amongst all those veggies.
4. Mix up brownie batter.
5. Spill little driblets of the stuff on every possible surface.
6. Forget that dishwasher is running until suddenly realize that have steamed up entire abdomen by leaning over the dishwasher to stir.
7. Wonder briefly if it would work to steam the wrinkles I'm getting by my eyes; decide that even spectacular results aren't worth sticking face in dishwasher. Probably.
8. Spread batter in pan; obsess briefly about getting it perfectly even before remembering that she won't see the whole batch--and if she did, she probably wouldn't throw things at me if they weren't perfectly even, anyway. Smooth them out one more time.
9. Toss brownies in oven, sit down to edge squares and watch football.
10. Watch Seahawks play....well, BADLY. Whimper.
11. Become mesmerized by lousy playing until suddenly remember brownies.
12. Leap from couch in a maniacal fashion, causing husband, cat, and knitting acoutrements to scatter like stoned partygoers when the cops show up.
13. Run to kitchen and yank brownies from the oven (WITH oven mitt--I'm crazed, but I ain't that crazed) while murmering little brownie charms so as to stave off the burn fairy.
14. Decide that they're all right; return to living room.
15. Pick up knitting, dodge angry cat, smile happily at perplexed husband who, by now, should be fully aware that I frequently act as if I am one step away from a room with soft walls and no longer look surprised about it. That would be the gentlemanly thing to do, anyway.
16. Realize that distress over team has caused me to edge an entire square with the thing face down.
17. Swear
18. De-edge square, while considering that people have been sued for far less. "But, your honor--if they'd played like they had the faintest inkling what a football is or what they're supposed to do with it, my priceless blanket wouldn't have gotten screwed up!" Only in America.
19. Watch team inexplicably, and against all odds, pull ahead.
20. Set knitting aside again, go into kitchen and heat butter and cream for truffle layer of brownies. Think about including the name and number of a good cardiologist with these, just in case.
21. Spread truffle on brownies, lick spoon.
22. Lick pan
23. Lick spoon some more.
24. Notice chocolate hardening in hair.
25. Swear again.
26. Pick little chocolate flecks out of hair.
27. Move knitting out to husbands shop at his request so that we can watch the game together.
28. Cheer on beleaguered team, who are back in my good graces in spite of the fact that they look as bewildered to be winning as I am to have them winning.
29. Go back inside, melt down white chocolate to spread over truffle layer.
30. Spread chocolate, remember what happened with the truffle layer, and carefully tuck hair behind ears.
31. Lick spoon.
32. Notice drizzle of white chocolate down front of favorite coral lace-up tee shirt.
33. Give up on swearing--it only seems to be egging the fates on.
34. Cut brownes into squares. Without incident.
35. Worry--what could the brownie gods be waiting to spring on me?
36. Run to make sure that the sugar wasn't really salt.
37. Run to make sure flour wasn't really cornstarch or gravy mix or some other nasty thing.
38. Run to make sure white chocolate wasn't really Ivory soap.
39. Decide that all is well...and wonder when I'm going to realize that I've somehow a)crocheted all the edges backwards, b)crocheted two squares together with one upside down, and/or c)failed to notice the large family of moths building a village in the midst of all the wooly wonderfulness. (No, they didn't...but I figured SOMETHING must have gone wrong.)
40. Put brownies in freezer. Next step: figure out how to talk to Stephanie without foot in mouth....or, more accurately, WITH foot in mouth since that is surely where it will be if last time is any indication.

At least I'm prepared to leave her with the memory of chocolate. Maybe that will help override the dorkiness?