It's started.

The destruction and mayhem have truly begun. A crew of many showed up in the wee hours (okay, it was 7:30, but I was tired) and tore my house apart. Okay, only the kitchen and the boy's bathroom.

"Only"? Am I crazy? Two rooms out of commission and the house is useless. Okay, I'm exaggerating just a little. But for someone who loves to cook, not having a kitchen is driving me effing crazy. We've set up a pseudo-kitchen in one end of the family room, i.e. a microwave, coffee maker, toaster. We're now using paper plates *shudder* and I'm buying prepared foods *double shudder*.

As an aside, the frozen meat pies from Bisson's Farm are fabulous!

Sharing a bathroom with two young men, AKA Son1 and Son2, is a challenge. They like to stay up later than we do so we're back to "time to get ready for bed!". That way they won't have to creep thru our room after we're asleep. Our squeaky floors preclude creeping.

A mystery...

I feel sure a bandit broke into our house. If we lived on a houseboat, I'd blame a pirate, but, alas, we're stuck on dry land, so it must have been a bandit. How do I know a bandit broke into our house? Because...whilst cleaning out the kitchen cupboards in preparation for the "Great Renovation of 2012", I came across six - SIX! - cans of sweetened condensed milk. The only logical explanation for said cans of sweetened condensed milk to be in my kitchen is that they were planted there by pesky bandits. Why the bandits would do this thing, I have no clue. It is not up to me analyze the motives of bandits. Rest assured the cans of sweetened condensed milk have been dealt with in an appropriate manner.

I shudder to think what the bandit has placed at the back of the fridge.

Strawberries are perfection.

I saw this recipe for Strawberry Summer Cake and thought, wow, that sounds fabulous. Until I got to the part about the strawberries needing to be almost too over-ripe. Strawberries never get to that state in this house. Particularly with Son1 home from college. He is a fruit vacuum. Every time I turn around, the fruit bowl is empty.

But, huzzah! I was a bit tardy in picking the berries from our own wee strawberry patch, so I had enough “almost too ripe” berries for this recipe. I say again, huzzah! I also say “nom-nom” with near-orgasmic undertones. Seriously, if you have to hide the berries from your loved ones until they reach that perfect state of “just about too far gone”, then do so. They will thank you.