B-b-baking!

 It was Saturday.  It was my roommate's birthday.  It was awesome.

My roommate turned 21 on Saturday, so in honor of her special day, and in honor of my appetite, I decided to go on a 2 day cinnamon-bun-baking-spree.  Saturday I got up at 6 to make cinnamon rolls for my amazing roommate "Ramsey's" birthday breakfast before I headed to campus to take a midterm that morning.  My roommate Ramsey is a hilarious and witty and extremely intelligent human being who makes for great conversation.  Sadly, I won't have the privilege of late night chat sessions with her for much longer because she is flying home on Wednesday.  For good. (Yes, I will have to endure having my very own room for the rest of the semester, quite the inconvenience, I know...) I will miss Ramsey, but I'm excited for her to be home with her friends and family, and admittedly, quite jealous.

Back to baking bidness,
Saturday I made Swedish-style cinnamon rolls for Ramsey, and when I woke up Sunday I decided that I wanted to make some for myself.  So I did just that.  Everything went quite nicely for the most part.  The house was filled with the tantalizing smell of yeasty goodness and my stomach was filled with cinnamony bliss.  I made enough cinnamon rolls to last me a lifetime/3 bins full of buns/till that dreaded, doleful, day when I reach my hand into one of my Tupperware containers only to have my hand hit the barren bottom.  Until then, life is like a cupboard full of soft, icing glazed, mouth-watering cinnamon rolls: absolutely delectable. 

Of course, no baking adventure involving a certain person named Anne goes without its crazy and potentially life-threatening mishaps.  Nothing went wrong with the actually cooking process, thank the heavenly baked goodness, but let's just say that Sunday morning was...electrifying.  So, I had to use a pair of scissors to cut open a packet of yeast.  After I was finished with the scissors I went to put them back into the cup full of pens, pencils, and scissors on the counter.  Unbeknownst to me, painstakingly close to the cup of school supplies is a hidden power outlet.  By some stroke of bad luck, I managed to hit the tip of the scissors right into the socket.  Suddenly there were sparks flying everywhere, and electric buzzing ringing in the air, and a frightened Anne receiving the shock of her life (literally!).  After being zapped for a couple of seconds I managed to let go of the scissors.  Unfortunately, the scissors were still stuck in the socket, so I had to find a wooden spoon to courageously whack those suckers out of there.  Needless to say, a small portion of my baking experience left me looking like this:

 Despite the brief stint with electrocution, the cinnamon rolls turned out heavenly and I have been in a state of sheer glee ever since. 

Yummmmm