Father's Day Tampons

I kind of ditched the scene for a while for some legitimately important things: checking out my new college, setting things up appropriately at said college, family obligations, and reading. That last one is probably the least important, but sometimes the most satisfying considering my current book is pushing me toward a rabid cooking frenzy I'd either enjoy or despise.

I'll find out Wednesday. I'm going to try and make Cucumber soup, Fruit Salad, Buttermilk Scones, and Orange Honey Butter. I seriously have no idea if I can afford the ingredients for all of that nonsense, but I'm going to friggin' try, you hear me?

In other news.

Does anyone else in the world seriously spend a good fifteen minutes talking about either defecating or menstrual cycles with their family? On FATHER'S DAY? I mean, not that it bothered me any. I thought it was pretty hilarious when my older male cousin plugged his ears when the application and following discomfort of tampons was the topic of discussion between his girlfriend and myself. Or am I just sick? Anyway, it was either that or trying to figure out the best way to clean your oh-so-natural, and periodically clogged, pipes. We opted for both, because the conversation was actually some weird kind of lesson in life. I always love a good lesson. Bring on the worldly knowledge of bodily functions! (this is not a cry for help, I swear.)

Then I had the pleasure of listening to that exact same cousin curse my mother for adjusting his broken toe so it wouldn't heal like a crooked digit. And then he milked that for maybe twenty minutes until we had cake and brownies. Sweets soothe the soul. Or toes. Whichever.

But I'm going to sign off because I need to make a list for all that food stuffs and then I'll relay the entire, sure-to-be-agonizing cooking experience right here for all to read. Think you can handle it? There's a very real possibility it'll turn into some food rant and self-loathing. 'Can't wait!