Saturday, March 16, 2013

Eton.


I walked out into the kitchen not but ten minutes ago, with the intention of putting the kettle on to make some tea. Then I remembered that the stove is broken so we turned it off last night, so now my white tea cup is sitting forlornly on the big wood table, empty.
This could mean something.
This could mean nothing.
I constantly find myself with the intention of interpreting things. Intentions are not necessarily actions though. So I ignore them, the intentions I mean. And I simply let it be.

I am looking into doing Eton Mess for the baby sister's sweet sixteenth this year. I've become more daring the past few years, especially since my pavlova last September. It can't be that hard, can it? Cream, berries, and meringue? Really. What can go wrong?
Well, the meringues could weep or curdle.
Some of the recipes are calling for mascarpone. Weird, or heaven. I don't know yet.
And berries. Um, are berries in season yet? At Trader Joe's, fingers crossed, maybe please?
This could just turn into a mess.

I have to go make tea and study History and French now. My Dad switched the stove back on.

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