French Toast: 0; Kendall: 1

This is what humble pie looks like. In case you can't tell from the stunning photograph, it was supposed to be baked apple french toast. It became mush, with a fine layer of leather on top. Carly, bless her heart, described it as a sort of "souffle. George, or Ciara, called it "custard." They're very nice people.

If we coated it with enough sugar, or huckleberry syrup, we could pretend it was french toast. But it wasn't. And I grew pretty despondent, after the success with the Brown Cow a few days before. Apparently, that had been a fluke, and now I was back to being a flake in the kitchen. Oh well, I thought, defeated, back to the grocery store vegetable trays I usually bring to parties.

I found out how humble pie tastes. It tastes eggy and burny.

Then, this afternoon, something happened. I was watching Holiday Inn, which is a strange movie starring Bing Crosby, Fred Astaire, a bunch of spineless and thin-ankled women, and a really strange song dedicated to Abraham Lincoln that the whole cast sings in black face, and , my mind wandered, since the movie was making me pretty uncomfortable. My mind wandered back to every task I've undertaken and quit. Piano lessons, dance classes, singing in the choir (though, really, I had no business in any singing based activity), soccer, sewing classes, even this stinking blog.

In an effort to be less of a quitter, to do the sort of hard, introspective work that I associate with being an adult, I pulled myself up by my bootstraps, and I tried again. It wasn't quite perfect, but let me provide visual evidence for the fact that I at least got myself within the ballpark (is that even a sports metaphor? it looks strange.).

Better, right? Someone, somewhere, would believe that this was baked apple french toast.

I promise this isn't going to be a cooking blog, because I really don't EVER cook anything, and this past weekend was a total anomaly with two cooking events in three days. But now I'm set until 2011. Seriously. It's just really snowy and cold here, and I don't have anything else to be doing, and trying to cook--and trying to blog about it--is better than trying heroin or gambling or murder, or any other trouble I could go getting myself into.

In the spirit of this newfound determination, I'm going to attempt the Snoqualmie pass tomorrow, for some quality time in Seattle with Katie before heading to P-town for the duration. Wish me godspeed and good defensive driving skills for tomorrow. I probably won't blog for a few days (tragedy!) (people sobbing and renting their clothes!) (I'm sorry Melissa--keeping you from doing your real work is the very best reason I have for keeping up with this thing), but I leave you with this very, very dear Christmas gift.

Enjoy!