What the Art Teacher Wore #68

This picture cracks me up because it kinda makes me look all sweet and innocent and whutnot. Which is SO TRUE. Except instead of sweet, I'd say "sarcastic" and innocent I'd say "something-that's-not-innocent-but-really-lazy-and-kind-of-annoying". Hey, I can't help the way I was raised. dress: vintage, The Hip Zipper in Nashville, shoes: Crocs; hair flower: H&M

 DUDES! You won't believe what just happened! I am so humiliated and mortified, you don't even know. But before I get to that, I've gotta first tell you the prequel of said Humiliated and Mortifying Event. Because it will totally set the stage for what just happened and will reaffirm your very correct thoughts of my ridiculousness. 

(I know what you're thinking, "Ahem. Giveaway winner, please? I didn't come here for no story time." To which I say, "Patience is ... oh, crap, what's the saying again? Oh yeah...Patience is a Virtue. What does that even mean? I have no idea, just scroll to the bottom, you impatient virtue-less beast.)

A buddy and I decided to take a day and explore some dusty old antique shops which, by the way, are the very best kind. The prices were crazy reasonable (I scooped up 3 amazing vintage dresses priced at $10 each which the owner sold to me for $8!). If you live in Tennessee and find yourself in between Columbia and Thompson Station, drop in Carters Creek Station Antiques.

 Okay, so, a coupla days ago, I scheduled some dudes to come out and clean my gutters. Which, if that sounds naughty to you, than you obviously have your mind in the gutter and should consider a good cleaning. I was told they'd be here around 8am which kinda worried me as I planned to be meeting up with a friend to hit estate sales (I'll share my drool-worthy spoils here in a sec). The gutter-cleaning-secretary-lady assured me that it wasn't a big deal as this was an outside job and they wouldn't be needing me. Cool.

Did I ever tell you about the time my crazy neighbor came over while I was planting ivy and said all soothsayer-esque, "I predict that ivy is going to take over your whole yard." To which I replied, after punching her in the nose, "Oh yeah? Well, how come you didn't see that comin', huh? Because my fist just took over your whole face!" Okay, not really. Like most nose-punchings, that only happened in my mind. But it turns out she was kinda right. And I kinda like it. dress: vintage, thrifted; belt: Pin Up Girl Clothing; shoes: TJMaxx

 So, woudn't ya know, at 7am I'm at the kitchen table eating brekky when the doorbell rings. And I suddenly get that watery-bowel feeling that only comes when you just so happen to be sitting at the kitchen table in your nastiest, shortest bathrobe with nuthin but undies on underneath and you are wanted at the front door. Oh, but wait, there's more: one of the things that sold us on our home was the fact that you can stand at the front door and see all the way into the kitchen. Which means door-bell-ringing/gutter-cleaning dude could totally see me. Fortunately, I had my back to the door. So all he saw was me hop up from the table and take off running.

More antique store goodness.

This vintage dress is one of my fave thrift store finds. It's so hard to find good, polyester-free vintage in the thrift stores these days that when I do, I feel like I've struck gold. dress: vintage, thrifted; pin: vintage; shoes: BCShoes, old; belt: made by me for my glow-in-the-dark Christmas dress

 And I was like a maniac as I didn't even know where I was running to. My fight or flight instinct was telling me: Get some more clothes on! Brush your teeth! Did you even wash your face last night because you look like a member of Kiss! Oh, never mind, just hide in the closet and hope he goes away.

Which I totally was going to do. But then he rang the doorbell again.

A sweet gem from the antique shop. I love the excitement on that little one's face.

I knew I had to get to the bedroom for some flippin' clothes. But the main set of stairs is right at the front door so my only option was to take this sneaky back set of stairs from the kitchen. And as I zipped up those stairs I thought, "perfect, I'll just slip on some shorts and a t-shirt and go see what gutter-cleaning-man wants." 

And then I remembered: I had to cross the top of the stairs which you can see from the front door. Crap.

top: thrifted, Banana Republic; skirt: thrifted, vintage; bag: Enid Collins, ebay

As I stood at the top of the stairs, I weighed my options:

A. Go answer the door. In nasty bathrobe. With Kiss-face. And be the laughing stock of all gutter-cleaning-man dudes.  

B. Run across the top of the stairs. Be seen by gutter-cleaning-man in my nasty bathrobe but only in a flash as I move lightening fast. Come downstairs in appropriate attire and act as though nothing happened.

I went with option B. And then I vowed, like took an oath, that I would never ever just sit around in my nasty bathrobe and not-much-else again.

Are you seeing this?! I scored big money at an estate sale this week with over 20 vintage dress patterns in my size! Can you believe the luck?! 

 Which now (finally) brings me to what just happened. So, it's after 12 pm, I've just had my lunch and I'm wearing appropriate teacher-on-summer-vacation attire: my pajamas. Look, my oath was very specific, it said I couldn't sit around in my bathrobe and undies anymore. So I upgraded to a paint-splattered t-shirt from college and a pair of waistband-busted sweats. What? I like to keep it classy yet comfy. Kinda like a Forever Lazy. Just not as swanky.

If I didn't currently have another dress on my sewing table, I'd make this one. Sadly, what I'm  currently working on is making me homicidal. So if I call you to come over for tea, don't. There's a good chance Ima gonna kill you in a fit of this-dress-pattern-is-driving-me-homicidal rage. You've been warned.

 This time Ima sitting on the couch in full view of the front door when the doorbell rings. My fight or flight totally started screaming for me to run for it again but it was too late. Gas-man was staring right at me. So with one hand holding up my waist-band-busted sweats, I opened the door.

I have a confession to make: I love rainy summer days. They're all snuggly and easy-going. Perfect for pajamas-til-way-after-noon kinda days. Which should be everyday in my book. dress: vintage; boots: Hunter

 And the followin' went down: 

Gas Man (looking at me gingerly): Hellooo, ma'am. Um, you were sent a letter saying that we would be doing a service call in your area at this time. Did you get the letter?

Me: Um, maybe?

 

Gas Man: We also sent out an email, a text message and a voice mail. 

Me: Oh, yeah, yeah. I'm sure I got that [vaguely recall throwing away said letter, deleting said text and voice messages and not even bothering to open said email. Oops.]

Gas Man: But if you are sick we can come back another time!

Me: Oh, I'm not sick! I'm just on summer vacation. In my pajamas. I'm going to go change now. Be right back.

And that's when I made an oath addendum: I will never ever sit around in my pajamas or my nasty bathrobe again. Although, in all seriousness, that's just not an attainable oath for me. So, now that I think about it, I'm going to have to do another oath rewrite. Here goes: I will never sit in full view of my front door. And I will always keep random piles of clothing around the house in case of an emergency. Like in the kitchen cabinets. Or the fridge.

 But enough about all that, let's get to the giveaway! I was so super excited by those of you that entered and totally wrote down all of your ideas so I can steal 'em one day. Which was apart of my evil plan all along, heh heh (did that sound maniacal? I was going for maniacal.) But seriously, some of you wrote the nicest things and it truly made my day (and earned you bonus points. Just kidding [no I'm not]). But in the end, there can be only one winner and that would be...

Yay, Jessica! Here's what she wrote:

"I've been a mildly obsessive reader ever since I discovered your blog a few months ago. The fabric is just calling out to be an apron. A full apron with pockets in a contrasting fabric. For cooking things from the Betty Crocker Outdoor Cook Book."

 Congrats, my dear! 

As for the rest of ya, keep rockin' that bathrobe and remember to always keep a spare set of clothing in your kitchen. Trust me.

DIY: Southern Lovin'

You know, for the amount of verbal abuse this painting had to endure, it looks pretty good. If I might say so. Which, in saying so, makes me sound like a total egomaniac. Yeah, well, it's time you knew the truth. By the way, you can find diy-details on those painted flower pots here.

Ya'll might find this hard to believe but I'm not actually from The South. That's right and I have the majority of my teeth to prove it (aw, now, you Southern folk, don't get yourself all worked up. After all, ya'll are the ones that dedicate an entire festival to a lil somethun called MoonPies and RC Cola. For those of you unfortunate enough never to have sampled the delicacy that is a MoonPie, lemme break it down for you: ya got a flattened marshmallow sandwiched between two round graham crackers dipped in chocolate, or as the box calls it, "flavored coating". Which is heaven so stop wrinkling your nose. AND in case that's not enough, at the festival they deep-fry the suckers for you. My taste buds were all "What?! Have I died and gone to Taste Bud Heaven?!" meanwhile, three teeth fell out screaming, "Abandon ship! This here's a mouth gone South!") 

Wow. That was the longest parenthesis ever. What was I even talking about?

I have a cousin and an aunt that are the same age as me. Do you need a second to unravel that mystery? If you guessed that my grannie, my mom and her sis were all preggers at the same time, congratulations! My grandparents loved to take just the three of us on mini-vacations. One trip was to Gatlinburg, Tennessee, which is this tourist town completely overrun with Old Time Photo places (where you can dress your daughter up as a lady-of-the-night and your son as a gun-totin' outlaw. You know, family values kinda stuff) and air-brushed t-shirt joints. Our hotel just happened to be across the street from Hillbilly Golf where we went adult-less every single day. What we loved about that place, aside from the fact that we were sans grownups, was that you took this incline to the top of the hill and played your way to the bottom. After a couple-twenty times to the top, we started to get bored and just took to throwing the golf balls down the hill. Which is super fun unless you get busted. So, kids, listen to your elders: Don't. Get. Busted. (Did I just go from Super Long Parenthesis to Super Long Caption? Oops, my bad).

 I'm actually an Indiana Gurl (or a Hoosier even though I have no idea what that means and I hesitate to refer to myself as such. I mean, what if it implies I have a deep love for pickles? I don't even like pickles! Therefore, I cannot comfortably refer to myself as a Hoosier, er, pickle-lover). Indiana is actually a cultural mecca, in case you didn't know. I lived in a town called Peru (pronounced Pee-roo by the locals. Seriously. But it's actually more famous for being Circus City, U.S.A. I can't even make this stuff up) which is near both Chile (pronounced Chai[like the tea]-lie) and Mexico. See? Total cultural explosion.

I promise I'll get to the DIY portion of this here post! Bear with me, I'm on an entirely-too-much-ice-cream high. Because after 15 years of livin' in Tennessee, I've become completely Sugar-Coated Southern.

 Just how did I end up in Tennessee, you ask? (What I know you're really asking: "Is this going to lead to another story?! Because I have a life I wanna lead." Oh, whatever. You do not.) Well, I did my student teaching in Ireland (any Irish in the house?! Dude, your country is so rad. Love the Guinness. And how you say words like "thirty-three" [turty-tree]), my dad was all (rightfully) worried I was going to come home, not get a job and just mooch off of them (totally the plan). So he sent out, get this, 50 copies of my resume to schools all over the U.S. Including A-freakin'-LASKA. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Other than Alaska is as cold as something-super-cold and dark, like, half the year. When Nashville, Tennessee called for an interview, I loaded up my teacher-interview clothes and my grandma, who'd never been to Nashville, and got the gig. And the rest is history. Or, as the locals call it, a Tennessee Tragedy. Seriously. It's in their history books.

I love it here. So much so that I've dedicated several DIY projects to Tennessee. Last summer I made this giant collage painting using a map of Nashville and a vintage postcard as my inspiration. I also created this Tennessee-themed calendar, which took me forever. And I loved it. But, being that it's currently the end of June, I couldn't continue to allow this 2012 calendar to hang another day (oh okay, another six months, sigh). So I decided to create a brand new painting to replace it. I began by mixing up my favorite tint of blue (yes, on a dinner plate. Word to the wise: if I invite you over for dinner, BYOP [Bring Your Own Plate] unless you savor lead poisoning) and cutting up an old hotel key card as a texture scraper. 

 After painting the entire canvas blue and scraping the texture, I began to draw in the design. Now, I gotta tell you, this is not an original design. Because I, my friends, will be the first to admit, I don't have a single original thought in my head. Just ask pinterest. Which, after doing some research on vintage travel posters, I found there (this is actually the next one I wanna attempt. I can't seem to find the one I was working from). Turns out you can buy these reproduction posters but I got all big-headed and decided I could do it myself. So I started by penciling in the landscape and painting it in, paint-by-numbers style.

 Do you have a wedge paint brush (not to be confused with a wedgie-paint brush which are very uncomfortable...or so I've heard)? I never really used 'em before because they seemed too Bob-Ross-y to me. But now I know why ole Bob used 'em -- they're amazing! You can create these awesome hard edges with them that would have required a lot of painting and repainting with any other brush. That Bob. He knew what he was doing.

 Dude. This was seriously as easy as it looks. Not confident in your drawing skills? Enlarge your image and trace it. Or, better yet, if you have a projector (which would probably require a time machine, but you got one of those, I'm sure) that'd be even better.

 Yay, landscape complete! I was so happy with how easy this was. Little did I know that hard part was yet to come (cue dum-dum-duuuuuum music. DUMB being the key theme of the song.)

 The. Freakin'. Lettering. UGH.

Sigh. So first there was the measuring out to make sure all my letters fit. Blah. And then there was the actual drawing of the letters. Double Blah. But the worst of it was painting each letter. Since I was using thick acrylic paint, this required a lot of painting, touching up and repainting. Good times. If I were to do this again, I woulda used one of those paint brush pins, as I used on this calendar.

I promise my lettering isn't this crooked. It's my crooked photography skillz that make it appear as such.

And there you have it, some Southern Lovin'.

I just hope that one day the South'll love me as much as I do it. We've had our rough patches, that's for sure. Like the last time I was in the Smoky Mountains enjoying the seriously amazing amusement park Dollywood. I was getting on the wooden roller coaster Thunderhead when this happened:

Roller Coaster Announcer Dude: As you enter the ride, please scoot all the why over.

Me to hubs: What did he say? 

RCAD (with obviously amazing hearing): I say-ed, scoot all the WHY over!

Me to hubs: Is he asking a question? I don't understand.

Hubs: He's saying "way". Scoot over!

Not-So-Friendly-Southern Lady in the Seat Behind Me: What the hail?! Scoot over!

Me to hubs: Did she just say hail?! Is it going to hail while we are on the ride?! Get me off of here!

Yeah. So. Me and The South. We got some more gettin-to-know-each-other to do. But that's okay. I'm not going anywhere (sorry, Tennessee!).

DIY: A Bonfire of Banana Bread and ... a Giveaway (Now Closed)

 So wouldn't you know the moment I start doling out recipes like I'm Martha-Flippin-Stewart, I turn my house into a Bonfire of Banana Bread. Not familiar with such a thing? Well, lemme tell you how the pros do it. First, you start with the batter and the only teeny tiny bread pan you have on hand. Then you fill the bread pan just half full (because the recipe says so) but that looks like an entirely too empty pan so you decide to fill it to the rim. Because you hate to see wasted space. AND because you only have one teeny tiny bread pan (you really should get more pans. Just sayin'). Then you throw it in the oven and almost forget about it...until that distinct burnt hair smell reminds you...

 Oh, crap! The banana bread! 

When I threw open the oven door, it looked like a bomb had gone off. There was smoke, fire and bubbly melty banana bread everywhere (okay, when bombs go off, I'm guessing there's not bubbly melty banana bread unless the bomb goes off at a Banana Bread Factory but that's just ridiculous. What kind of crazy person would blow up a banana bread factory?! Everyone loves banana bread! Well, they did until they saw this photo). I managed to salvage this wee loaf with what looks like fake vomit stuck to the side. It was at that moment, hubs walked in. And this happened: 

Hubs: I'm hungry...wait, what's that smell?

Me: Um. Banana bread...?

Hubs: (noticing said bread on counter) You mean Blackened Banana Bread? 

Me: I got the recipe from Bon Appetit!

Hubs: You know, when I look at Bon Appetit, it's funny, the food looks just like that.

And then he insisted on taking a photo of my gourmet cooking and that I share it with you on this here blog. So that you may never get a Banana Bread Hankerin' again. You're welcome.

Remember this fabric? Because it has an early 1960's vibe to me, I decided to pair it with this 1962 dress pattern sent to me from a friend (thanks, Kristin!). I love the neckline, the bow belt and the bows at the bottom of the back straps. Check out this amazing dress in the same fabric sewn by The Girl with the Star Spangled Heart.

But, wait, what was that other thing mentioned in the title of this post? Did someone say giveaway (and is this someone currently talking about themselves in third person? Someone is creepin' me out!)? That's right, you read the title of this post correctly, I'm givin' away stuff, Oprah-style! ... except I'm not going to give you a brand new car. Sorry. Not in my budget. But what I got is even better (no it's not, just trying to make you feel better) so don't you dare scroll all the way to the bottom of this post to look for the giveaway details.* Because if you do, you'll miss all of the fascinating tales of this here dress and those thar oven mitts.**

That forced-grin photo on the left kinda reminds me of the day I wore my thong wrong. Which takes skills so don't act like you aren't impressed (and that you haven't had to pause a second before slipping into your thong. I mean, there are just too many entry points and too little fabric). I noticed that day that I kept walking crooked, bumping into anyone that was crazy enough to be near me. A trip to the bathroom lead me to discover my problem (well, one of them): I had one leg in the leg hole, the other in the waist hole and my waist in the other leg hole. Needless to say, it was as pinchy and uncomfortable as I look in that photo on the left. Is this too much information? Am I over sharing? Let's change the subject: Look At Those Adorable Bows! (...did that help...?)

So this pattern was pretty rad...and it introduced me to a series of firsts. Like lining. I've never lined a dress before and look at that photo below. Look at it! This is my first dress that just as pretty on the inside as it is the outside! I'm considering wearing it reversed just so people can admire how stinkin' awesome it is. They'll be all, "Dude, your lining is so rad!" and I'll be all, "I know, right!?" and that's pretty much where the conversation will end because I'm a pretty sucky conversationalist. And, let's face it, if we're not talking about me, I ain't got nothing to say.

Another first? Putting in something called a waist stay. When the pattern called for that, I was all "whah, huh?" Then google informed me that it was pretty much just a ribbon that kept my gathered waist from ungathering while covering up those unsightly gathers.

Just a view of the back. And those bows, gah. I loves 'em. So much so that I even made the bow for my hair using the same pattern. It's super easy. One of these days, I'll show you how. By the way, I got off easy as this dress fits like a glove! And by "glove", I don't mean an ove-glove. Because that would be too big. No, man, this was a no-alterations needed pattern. Which is great because I can't even put on a thong correctly so altering would be outta the question.

 When I went to the grocery today to pick up the ingredients for that bread (ahem), the checkout dude gave me the up/down (you know, when someone looks you over from head to toe with a "what the h***?" look on their face) and said, "Do you dress like that everyday?" And for some reason, my mind immediately thought, Oh no! He knows I'm wearing my thong wrong! and I was tempted to blurt out, "No! I just made a mistake! There are so many holes and so little fabric, it's confusing. You would NEVER understand!" And then I realized he meant my dress and I was all, "Yeah...I guess." I've never left a grocery store so quickly in my life.

 In the middle of dressmaking, I decided this fabric just had to become a set of pot holders. I mean, look at it! It's screaming, "Make me into a pot holder right now! After you make me a sandwich!" (geez, this is exactly what that other fabric said to me. Must be a trend.)

 Wanna make some pot holders? I borrowed heavily from Denise Schmitt's Quilts book. But I did some tweaking and thought I'd share my version with you. You know, because this blog post isn't already long enough. 

To start, I sewed two contrasting fabrics together and pressed the seam open, as seen in the photo on the left. Because I was making two mitts, I created four of these panels. I then pinned the pot holder parts in this order: panel, quilt batting, heat retardant fabric, inside fabric. These were about 9" X 11" in size.

 Then I set my machine on a basting stitch (so that the stitches would be really long) and sewed a series of vertical and horizontal lines. The beauty of her pattern is that you don't have to sew straight lines. They can be as wonky as me walking in a crooked thong.

 Earlier, I had traced my fave oven mitt (which is currently covered in banana bread goo, no lie), added about 1/4" all the way around and cut out the template you see on the left. I drew the horizontal line to match up my two fabrics. The template was placed on the sewn fabric and cut out. To finish the bottom edge, I used quilt binding tape that I held in place with Stitch Witchery until I could stitch.

 I wanted pom-poms on the bottom of my mitts, so it was at this point that I sewed them to the wrong side of the mitt. After that, I pinned the two mitts wrong sides together and sewed around them with a 1/4" hem.

 Right before turning them right side out, I clipped really close to the inside of the thumb. Turning them right side out wasn't easy...so it's important not to make your mitts too small. Then they'll be a royal pain to turn. When turning these, they reminded me of the Hamburger Helper oven mitt. Makes a great meal. Or so I've heard.

And the mitts are finished! But enough about that...let's chat about the GIVEAWAY! 

Here's the deal: I have two yards left of this Michael Miller fabric and I wanna give it to YOU! Along with this little vintage cookbook, because, let's face it, I really shouldn't be cooking. So here's how to enter: 

• Leave a comment below and tell me what you'd create with this fabric. I'm dying to know! And I'll probably end up stealing your ideas and never sending you fabric...kidding! But only about that last part.
• For extra bonus points, I'd totally dig it if you'd follow my blog. Because you need more Burnt Banana Bread blog posts in your life. And stories of thongs. Oh, forget about it. I wouldn't follow this thing either! (Seriously, you don't have to become a follower to enter).***

 How does that sound? I'm excited to hear from you! I'll keep this giveaway open until Monday, July 1st. AND it's open to international commenters too. On that date, I'll throw all the names into a jar, pull one, announce the winner and send this good stuff your way. Chat with you soon!

*Ha! You DID skip to the bottom! Well, the details of the giveaway aren't here. So get yourself back up to the top and finish reading! Geesh.

** Ugh, I'm bored by this post already, aren't you? WHAT?! You are?! That was a trick and you, my friend, you failed. No free stuff for you! Now go leave a comment so I can "accidentally" forget to put your name in the jar.

***Yes, you do...****

****Seriously, you don't. Now go away and leave a comment.

DIY: How to Never Lose that Recipe Again! And Other Stuff.

As if this is what it looks like when I sit down to enjoy a cookie or four. Shoot, by the time I actually get to the table, I've gotten a cookie and a half crammed into my gullet. I am convinced that eating while standing doesn't count. In fact, I'm pretty sure in Weigh Watchers-land that'd be considered negative points. Bonus points, maybe? Extra credit work. That's it.

What you are about to read involves a recipe by yours truly. I know, I know. I probably should have allowed a little more time to lapse between near foot-amputation via a food processor and a blog post of cooking tips. But this here cookie recipe is too good not to share. In fact, hubs, who is a sweets aficionado, calls these his favorite and requests them often. Which is kinda a problem because I'm a flippin unorganized disaster that misplaces this recipe constantly. So I decided to perma-ize it on to a tea towel and a thrifted platter. 'Twas easy, lemme show you how.

Are you checking out those ingredients? You know anything that involves a stick of butter, sugar and chocolate has gotta be good. In fact, these cookies simply taste like chocolate butter. Which would be the best invention ever. And if you don't think these cookies are amazing, than, I'm sorry, but something is seriously wrong with you. I hate to be the one to tell you. Maybe your taste buds are broken. I heard once that you can get Taste Bud Transplants (actually, I've never heard that). In which case, you'd come back to me all apologetic like raving on and on about how incredibly wrong you were and how incredibly incredible the cookies are. Which, after TBT surgery would probably sound something like, "Oh my Dod, Cathie! Theeth cookieth are tho delithith!"

(Did I just insult people who may or may not have had Taste Bud Transplants? Er, if you exist, thorry).

Because my hand writing may be a touch difficult to read, here are the ingredients for a small batch of 12 cookies: 

• 3/4 cup of flour
• 1/4 cup of unsweetened cocoa powder (I use Hershey's)
• 1/4 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1 stick of unsalted, room temperature butter
• 1/2 cup of sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla
• 2 tablespoons of steel-cut oats (really any kind of oatmeal is good, we just prefer this)
• 1/4 cup of semi-sweet chocolate chips
• Small amount of coarse sugar (like the raw stuff) in a bowl
• Handful of cocoa nibs, if you got 'em

Oh, but back to the tea towel. So I used some linen-esque cotton I had in my stash. I cut it to 18" X 24" and began the entirely-too-long process of creating those light blue loose-leaf-paper lines. I set my machine on zigzag and zipped along. Once finished with that, I added the light pink vertical line and serged the edges out of pure laziness. 

Once you've russell up all the ingredients, do this:

1. Preheat your oven to 350 degrees.  By the way, always check the inside of your oven before turning it on or you might discover that the crusty food on those dirty dishes you put in there when the in-laws were coming over is gonna burn and stink to high heaven. Not that I would know anything about that.  
2. Mix the first 4 ingredients into medium sized bowl.  Using an electric mixer, beat the butter in a large bowl until fluffy. Ummm, fluffy butter. 
3.  Add sugar and vanilla to the butter and continue to beat until blended. 
4. Add that floury stuff from the first step and attempt to beat. It'll be a little tricky because that stuff is about to get thick and clumpy. Which is usually never a good way to describe someone's cooking, but stay with me, the cookies are worth it. 

I used a fabric pen I picked up at the local craft store to write the recipe. That was a pinch tricky as the ink of the pen liked to bleed a bit so I just wrote a little larger than normal. By the way, did you know that they no longer teach cursive writing in elementary schools? This seriously bums me out. When I was a kid, we didn't have art class so those purple ditto cursive writing sheets were the closest thing for me. And I totally rocked 'em. Couldn't do long division or pass a spelling test, but you give me one of those hot-off-the-presses smeary purple sheets and I'd cursive write it all the way to Peru. Not the country. Peru, Indiana. The town next to the one I grew up in.

5.   Mix in oats, chocolate chips and cocoa nibs (which are totally optional. We just happened to have a stash and I add them for their crunch) with a spatula. 
6.  Shape a big ol' tablespoonish amount of the cookie dough, roll it around in that bowl of coarse sugar and kinda flatten it onto a cookie sheet. That's if you even get this far because, if you're anything like me, you're going to have consumed nearly half of that cookie dough before it even hits the sheet. Which is a good thing because this cookie dough doesn't contain raw eggs and thusly won't give you worms that crawl out your back door in the middle of the night (you know, call me naive, but I'm pretty sure most recipes shouldn't include the worm-crawling-out-yer-butt visual. Sorry).
7.  Bake them bad boys for about 10-12 minutes, let 'em cool for five seconds and drop 'em in your mouth like the hot-as-coal-from-a-grill chocolate buttery goodness that they are. Don't worry about those silly burnt taste buds. After all, you can always get TBT.

 For some reason, I got it in my heard that the recipe-emblazoned tea towel just wasn't enough. So when I spotted this giant platter at the thrift store, I decided to glaze the recipe onto it as well. I filled  one of those fine metal tipped glaze bottle thingies with black glaze and then I set to work transcribing the recipe.

Which makes the whole process sound much easier that it actually was. Because of the heavy glaze already on the plate, the surface was super slick and hard to write on. And the glaze liked to do this coming-out-in-clumps thing which was totally awesome. After doing some serious writing, wiping off and rewriting, I found that the best thing was to drag the metal tip of the applicator across the surface as I was writing. The above is how it looked before firing...

And here's the after. Which looks exactly the same.

Cookie and platter close up. Look at that prettiful hand-writing, would ya? All that hard work, it pays off. Just don't ask me to do any of that long division nonsense, ermkay? By the way, I know it looks like there are raisins in cookies. There isn't. It's just what happens when you wrap freshly made cookies in layers of Saran wrap and stick 'em in the freezer. More on that later.

Yay! Hub's fave recipe immortalized! The end.

Okay, not really The End. I just had to share this with you. This is how hubs keeps his extra stash of cookies: in 13 layers of Saran Wrap and a zip lock baggie in the freezer. You know, if some coke fiend came to our house, lookin' for coke in the freezer (cuz that's where one keeps coke, right? I don't know about these things and I'm afraid to google it for fear that "angel dust in freezer" will most assuredly get me fired. Again.) they'd find these instead. Which, being jacked up on coke, they'd be able to wrestle through those 13 layers much faster than me (I'm pretty sure one shouldn't curse and break into a sweat as much as I do before enjoying a cookie.) Now that I think about it, I wonder if those layers aren't meant to keep these cookies Cassie-proof. Hmm...I just might have to have a cookie or (one, two, three...) eight! in order to figure this one out. 

Until next time, go make yo'self some cookies! And then come back and tell me how amazin' they are!