august 2, 2002.

I'm having a lot of body issues this month, and yet I made 4 dozen chocolate chocolate chip cookies tonight. They're not for me, of course, they're for the kind boy who lent us this computer monitor. Still, it opens the door to a lot of tasting and sampling.

This is actually feeding into my dominant drives right now; for some reason I've come over all domestic goddessy tonight. I spent 2 hours cooking dinner (spicy cornmeal cod, garlic mashed potatoes, corn) and when it was done I went right into the cookies. I've learned my lesson from the last time. Last time I added egg before the sugar and margarine were creamed together. Then I forgot the baking powder completely until after the chocolate chips. The resultant cookies were wildly uneven in quality: some behaved properly, but most liquefied and burnt to a filigree. Timing matters.

Tonight's cookies were properly mixed and puffed up beautifully. And even though I've only had a few, I've already eaten so much refined sugar that my head is buzzing. Guh.

My website successor called today, putting to rest my fears that I'd have to update the site from Torque. She seems pretty unaware of programs like Adobe Photoshop and Dreamweaver - I guess that she took us seriously when we wrote "no prior experience required." I just hope that I can fit all of the know-how she'll need into my remaining 2 weeks.

I talked to my dad today. He's been gathering furniture for a week, the idea being that he'll take some stuff to our new apartment before we get there. It's not like we need all that much moved, or that we couldn't handle the extra furniture when we arrive in the middle of August. Rather, I think we all felt a profound need to possess the apartment, to weigh it down with futons and bookshelves before it had a chance to float away on the capricious winds of the Toronto real estate market.

I'm pretty pleased about the furniture. We'll be getting two chests of drawers that used to be in my room, the matching nightstand, my university bookshelf, and an assortment of my brother's furniture that will not revert to him until he actually decides where he'll be moving. In the meantime we get a new futon, dining room set and entertainment unit. The Boy really wanted to keep our old entertainment unit, but I convinced him that he can use the one we have now as a recording station (instead of the crappy end table he currently employs).

Boy. Was that or was that not the most boring paragraph in the history of paragraphs?