Posted in Musings and Mutterings

By the Light of the Papermoon

If baby doll heads and a fork mohawk bother you, then this isn’t the place for you.

February is the month we celebrate #3’s birthday, as well as the birthday of #4’s steady. Now that #3 decided city life in the Nation’s Capital is where he wishes to be, he sold his car. The challenge was to find somewhere that we could go that wasn’t too far out of the realm of Penn Station in B’more so we could all essentially meet in the middle. I chose the Papermoon diner.

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Eclectic is a polite word you could use to describe this place. Creepy might be another. Mannequins with ball-chain clothing and toilet, sink and bathtub flower pots adorn the exterior.

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Oh yeah, I forgot the doll head “flowers” on the windows…

These were creepy and reminded me of when my brother would pull the heads off my dolls, or hang them from the rafters in the part of the basement we called, “the other side”.  I didn’t know whether to be disturbed, or comforted by the sights of my childhood when I saw them.

The gentleman with the fork mohawk, astride the cow with long eye lashes and glittering udders was one I enjoyed.

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Inside there were formica tables and mismatched chairs, and a menu that was stuffed with many options. Interestingly, sandwiches were ranging between 6-12 dollars, but for french fries you had to pay 2.50 extra, and if you preferred sweet potato fries or deadly onion rings, you were going to cough up another 3.00 instead. (I would cough up a lung, due to my allergy) That being said, the food was pretty good. The desserts were probably the best part of the meal. I had a flourless chocolate cake that my daughter likened to “wine” and hubby had a delightful salty caramel cake I could nibble on.

Wall decor consisted of more doll heads and mannequins with army men glued to their heads to simulate hair. I didn’t get to look around too much because they were busy and we were ushered quickly to our table, however within view I could see:

  • Handicapped Ken doll and Handicapped Stacey doll – complete with their own wheel chairs.
  • A number of assorted Barbie dolls or accessories
  • A wall of heads

Didn’t do so much for my appetite to be stared at by so many.

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STOP JUDGING ME! I CAN HAVE CAKE IF I WANT TO!

Posted in Musings and Mutterings

Baking Gods

Somehow, by moving, I think I’ve managed to offend the Baking Gods.

Not one thing that’s come from my oven has been “right”. So far I’ve horribly mutilated oatmeal chocolate chip cookies and now some banana bread. WTH?

I’m beginning to doubt my awesome-ness in the baking annals of time. This just will not do. Heck, for years, I baked because I was angry. The measuring and the mixing and the aromas seemed to do wonders for me. My hubby would come home, smell something luscious in the oven and then think, “Uh oh”.

Maybe that’s my problem. I haven’t been angry when I’ve baked. I haven’t given the necessary ritual curses and angry mixing of the batter to properly appease the almighty Baking Gods. I haven’t thrown flour about the room and stomped my feet, nor painted chocolate smears across my apron and smudges on my face. They must not recognize me!! My proper penitence has not been paid. Hubby hasn’t come home and said, “Uh Oh”, looked at what a mess I’d made of my clothes and followed that comment up with, “You should just bake naked.”

THAT’S what it is. It has to be. The Baking Gods are PERVS!!

or… maybe…. it’s because the oven is a few degrees off?…… nah…. the Baking Gods are pervs.