I’m having the urge to make desserts right now. I don't just want to have a scoop of ice cream, I want to make sundaes with fudge topping and crumbled cookies. I’ve been saving no-bake coconut milk cheesecake and key lime pie bar recipes from The New York Times like it’s my job. I want to make popsicles again like I did last summer. I want to make strawberry lemonade and homemade ice cream cake.
There’s no dumber time to make such things than right now, where there are no crowds in my backyard and no barbecues to attend. As with any kind of leftovers, even key lime pie bars seem gross on the third or fourth day. The only thing worse than a dessert not made is a dessert thrown away!
This is all escapism. Honestly, I would happily eat a slice of no-bake cheesecake right now but I would get more out of putting it together. The soothing ritual of assembling the ingredients, lining up the tools, going through the steps. I have to think about it, but not really think on it or think through it. A nice, finite, brain vacation.
In another timeline – one where we are not fighting about masks and quarantines and second waves and spikes – I arrived in Dublin this morning. I got off the plane and walked down the brightly lit corridor of Terminal 2, stood in the line for non-Irish citizens and blearily told an immigration officer the purpose of my visit. (In the next line over my husband gets told “welcome home.”) Then we get our bags and find our family. The temptation to start buying Cadbury Mint Crisp at WH Smith is strong (but I resist). And then we go somewhere and drink strong tea and have a big breakfast and fall asleep until dinner.
I’m certainly sad we won’t see Paris this year but I am also sad about the Dublin part of the trip. We haven’t been in a couple of years and I miss the aunts and uncles and cousins and really the whole country, the way the air smells and the way I feel when we’re there. Maybe later I’ll listen to In the Rare Old Times and just be sad about it for a while, Irish-style.
I was up all night with the puppy again last night. I don’t know what her deal is, if she overexerts herself or eats too much dirt or just has puppy IBS or what, but I have exhausted my supply of patience in dealing with it. Last night it was 67 degrees and we turned off the air and opened the windows. All evening I looked forward to falling asleep in our big comfy bed with the breeze coming in. Boy was I disappointed to trade that scenario for sleeping fitfully on the couch in front of an oscillating fan.
Nevertheless! I am showered, the dogs are asleep, the breeze is still coming in the windows, and tonight we all get another chance. Fingers crossed everyone keeps their guts in order.