I wanted Martha’s Strawberry Shortcake Cookies to be amazing. I wanted them to be gorgeous and crumbly and sweet. 

Instead, they were…not good. 

I don’t know what happened! I followed the recipe exactly, and maybe it’s just a bad recipe, but they were too soft and smushy and spongy, more like a muffin than a cookie. And there’s something vaguely bitter about the taste of cooked strawberry that I don’t like. I fed them to a bunch of different people, some of whom were more enthusiastic than others, but the bottom line is these are NOT a make-again. 

The recipe doesn’t show up on Martha’s website–it’s in the June issue, so maybe it’s too new–but it’s not worth retyping, either. I just wanted to share the fail. 

They are pretty, though. 

Tell me what you’ve made and hated.

1. E. Hutch’s rendition of My Girl, which featured two wonderful minutes of R. Kelly’s Ignition Remix. Bounce bounce bounce bounce bounce, indeed. 

2. Post-concert cheese fries shared with girls who know my heart

3. It being warm enough to go without a jacket, even at night, like summer

4. I think Tom is going to fold like a house of cards and come to New York after all

5. The Gaslight brunch in my immediate future

Gone til Monday. Happy weekend!

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-IWQt0sP8dY]

My gorgeous sister J is coming up from New York this afternoon with her equally gorgeous roommate for a night on the town and a concert by sweet Eric Hutchinson. Seriously, how much do you all love this song? Sunny, spring-y music at its finest.

Tomorrow the three of us are headed back home to spend some quality time with the parental units (y beber muchas margaritas a Rosa Mexicano), and on Sunday I’m going to see if I can’t use my feminine wiles to peer-pressure Tom into coming down for a night. It’s a sunglasses-mix cd-flipflops-Corona with lime-quick change your clothes in the bathroom at work  kind of weekend. Here we go!

Sometimes it’s nice to dress up a sixty-six cent box of Jell-O with some blackberries and serve the whole thing in a teacup.

As opposed to, you know, eating it out of a Tupperware with a giant red spatch.

I try not to think of these as days off, really. More of days for Getting Things Done. 

I set the alarm.

I put real clothes one. 

I eat a fibrous breakfast.

And all that.

Today Brought:

Coffee and agent-scouting with Tom at Borders

Some digital camera research (I’m going to pull the trigger this week, honest. I’m stalling)

A nineteen dollar savings at Stop and Shop (I love double coupons)

Turkey sandwiches and potato salad for lunch

Five query letters, done

A guilty, giddy obsession with this song

Some correspondence to catch up on (Do you have cousins? If you do, you should write to them. Preferably in purple pen.)

The cable bill (and my Visa, which was mercifully low this month) paid

And a laid-back dinner with Tom. 

Tonight: 

Two of America’s very favorite pastimes (Yankees/Red Sox and Idol’s Final Four)

and some beers with two of my very favorite boys.

I probably  have Swine Flu.