I am listening to the washing machine and its spaceship whir. It is very very cold outside, but I am still wearing these thin little green fisherman pants that Emily brought me back from Thailand. I am eating carrot cake, and am so excited about it just knocked my water glass over trying to sit down at the table with it. I also managed to wipe frosting through my freshly washed hair.
The cake is amazing. A little bit spicy, in a Christmas sort of way. So moist, and that lovely cream cheese frosting on top. I left out the nuts and the raisins, which, in my opinion usually ruin a perfectly good cake. This was my first time with carrots, in the sweet sense, and I must say that I have been pleasantly rewarded. And after having three slices last night with Ian, Emily, and Elaine, the cake will probably be gone after today since I have so far had it for breakfast, lunch, and a two o'clock snack with tea. I'm still not tired of it. It's still too cold outside, so I must stay here, sitting at the wobbly kitchen table, licking the last crusted bits of frosting from the plate.
Needless to say, I have started a blog. Not because I have anything relatively important or mind blowing to tell the world. Not because I'm an expert on well, anything.
But for these reasons:
• I like to write
• I love to cook, to eat, and to tell everyone about it.
• I have been neglecting my friends and family, since I have been temporarily sojourning in Edinburgh for the past few months.
• I have been neglecting the rest of the world, because Scottish accents are surprisingly hard to understand, and it is really really cold outside.
This afternoon I was sitting with Emily, my boyfriend Ian's sister. We were finishing off the carrot cake I made last night, talking about cake mishaps, and drinking tea. She claims she has problems reading recipes and proved this by describing a cake she tried to make with corn flour instead of white flour, forgetting the sugar, and then coming out with something akin to brown paste. "The cake went tits up," she said shrugging. Another Scottish expression I have yet to wrap my mind around.