Tag Archives: Smores

Fire Safety Tips From My Cat

Esme recently discovered my apartment’s fireplace. I never use it because it’s wood-burning, not gas. And a real fire in my apartment means easy access to smores 24/7 which means packing on 5 extra pounds  just seems like a recipe for disaster.


You can’t see me.

I’m not sure why she’s always in there, but I have a few ideas:

  • Santa Claus is her idol.
  • She thinks it’s the safest place to be during an earthquake.
  • In case the apartment catches on fire, she has an escape route.
  • She’s auditioning for a play in which she will play…a log.

How do you close this? I need some priv-a-cy.

Why is Esme Kitty in the fireplace? Does your pet have a favorite spot?

Please Pass Smore Peeps Smores

Wanna know a secret? I don’t like Peeps. I think it’s the sugar on the outside.

I know: I’m the Sugar Queen. How can there be too much sugar? It perplexes me as well.

But it’s not my sweets reputation that I’m worried about. I’m keeping it a secret because Kiefer put some Peeps in my Easter basket. Bless his little heart: he didn’t know I don’t like Peeps. Heck, I didn’t even know. I’d never tasted Peeps before.

Kiefer: Do you like Peeps?

My Thoughts: I’ve never actually had one, but if I say that, he’s gonna tease me for being a picky eater and not trying new things. They’re just marshmallow and sugar, right? How can you go wrong with that?

What I Said: Sure. Nothing gives me more pleasure than biting the head off a marshmallow bird.

But I gave Peeps one last chance to redeem themselves.

I made a Peep smore.



And it was delicious. And it was a-maz-ing to watch one blow up in the microwave. Toasting them over the fire worked, too, but I prefered to watch the Peep swell up to softball size.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “For your soccer game, you should most definitely be wearing lingerie. There will be an underwear runway for you to strut on. Make sure to have three glasses of wine to really make the undies pop.”—Blissful Britt

My Reputation as a Blogger, Not a Floozy

On Saturday afternoon, I met up with fellow blogger Misty.

And I was nervous. Date nervous. In fact, if you count the Renaissance Festival, Saturday was our second date.

Thoughts started racing through my head:

  • Does this sweater make me look fat?
  • What if I trip and fall on my face?
  • It’s snowing. What if snow falls on my head and ruins my hair? Maybe I should wear a hat.
  • Are birds still flying south for the winter? What if a bird poos on me? I should definitely wear a hat.
  • What if she doesn’t like smores? (This should have been my first worry. Obviously, my game was off.)
  • What happens on the second date? Is that second base?

Misty and I met at a really cool store called Retro Metro. As we entered the store, I was even more nervous. I promised Misty the store had some funny stuff for excellent blog material and gifts.

What if she didn’t think the store was funny? My credibility would be shot. I could see rumors running rampant through the blog world: Thoughtsy doesn’t know funny. She’s as funny as a fart in a spacesuit.


But then…Misty laughed. And she laughed smore some more. And she showed me this:

A supplement to my American Sign Language classes.

We found some really cool stuff at the store…like this stuff.

Next we had lunch. And by lunch, I mean dessert. And by dessert, I mean Peanut Butter Smores. Mmmmm…. Misty even let me have the last bite because she’s cool like that.

After smores, we went back to Retro Metro because the store was just that cool.

Anyways, I think I sufficiently impressed Misty because she gave me Pop-Tarts. This means there will probably be a third date…I wonder if she’ll expect me to put out?

In the Smores Family: Graham Cracker Bars

Boo loves smores. He loves smores so much that he frequently forgets the other dessert categories, like ice cream, cake, cookies, and pie.

Boo: Want to eat smores for dessert?

Me: Again? We’ve had smores twice this week already.

Soon smores will become the new brussel sprouts. I’ll be trying to sneakily spit the smore into my napkin. Then Kiefer will catch me and sternly reprimand me: “You’re not getting up from this table until you finish your smore, young lady.”

And there I will stubbornly sit, arms crossed over my chest and pouting. When he turns his back, I’ll stick my tongue at him or make other obscene gestures.

Bars Without Powdered Sugar

In an effort to save our relationship from smore ruin, I decided to try out this recipe: Graham Cracker Bars. My buddy blogger at Themes N’ Things sent it to me.

  • 1 box of graham cracker crumbs
  • 1 cup of chopped walnut (I left these out because I don’t like nuts.)
  • 1 package of chocolate chips
  • 1 teaspoon of vanilla
  • 1 stick of butter, softened
  • 2 cans of sweetened condensed milk

Mix it all together, and bake in a greased square pan at 350 for 25 minutes. After they’ve cooled, flip the pan over onto a cutting board (awesome idea!). The dessert goodness falls out, and it’s easier to cut. Cut it into squares, and then roll the square in powdered sugar.

Themes N’ Things recommends serving with a sign that says, “Do not Inhale.”

Because I have no patience, I ate one that was still warm before it the powdered sugar step. It was broken anyways. What’s that you say? Maybe I purposely broke it? I admit to nothing!

So good. It was like a warm chocolate chip cookie. I might have eaten two. Actually it’s a wonder there were any left to serve at the 4th of July picnic I attended.

The sign is  there for a reason, people. Read and obey the sign!