Since I spent much time last weekend being otherwise engaged with craft shows and dinners and romantic interludes when I should have been writing, I am now locked in my apartment trying to finish these book revisions by Monday. Well, I have to finish it, as my agent threatened to start breaking toes after this week. Which is soooo rood. Anyway, I did just make a very exciting sojourn to the SUPER STOP N SHOP with Tink to buy all the ingredients for the magical pistachio ice cream cake I shall be whipping up tomorrow to enter in the annual office Christmas party BAKE OFF. Tho my winning does seem assured, as the other desserts will most assuredly be of a more earthbound and pragmatic nature, it is also the case that I have never before made this pistachio ice cream cake--or any dessert at all, for that matter, ever. Still, I am sure I am secretly a dessert making genius. And plus the recipe is very easy and I am quite positive that I can crush me some Ritz crackers in a most glamorously enviable manner, and even mix them with butter. And I was MADE for spreading Cool Whip. Also, it was very weird and even vaguely traumatic to buy the most decadently full and fatty milk and ice cream and butter and cool whip for my recipe, and I had to keep putting products back because they had reduced sugar or fat. And even magical desserts can only win bake offs with a full array of fats and sugars winking out of them.

As if that weren't exciting enough, we then went to the wine store where I got me, among other things, some SEXY RED WINE.



OH YEAH.