I'm not going to go all soft on anybody, and be all, like, Oprah. Yeah, we all know we have it good, and in celebration, my fat-ass gift to you: Two Ingredient Pumpkin Cake. I'm grateful I can be lazy and fat and use cheats on already-prepared food.
Two-Ingredient Pumpkin Cake with Apple Cider Glaze
For the Cake:
1 Yellow Cake Mix
1 15 ounce can of pumpkin puree
For the Glaze:
1-1/2 cups powdered sugar
3 Tablespoons apple cider
3/4 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice
Empty the contents of the boxed cake mix and pumpkin puree into a large bowl. Using a hand-mixer or stand mixer beat until well incorporated. The batter will be very thick, but will come together nicely.Pour batter into a greased 7 x 11 X 2 pan. This is the small, rectangular-sized pan from your Pyrex set. You know, the set you had to have when you got married and rarely ever used all the pieces. Finally, you have a use for it.Bake at 350 degrees for 28 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Do not overbake.
Let cool for 5-10 minutes in the pan, then flip onto a platter.
Make the glaze while you're waiting.Combine powdered sugar, apple cider and pumpkin pie spice. Glaze should be thick but pourable. Add more sugar or cider if needed. Pour over the cake while still warm. Reserve some to pour over each slice when served.
Serve warm or room temperature.
Oh, and by the way, I'm grateful for copy and paste, so's I could be even lazier and not have to type out my slackass recipe from whence I stole it.
Happy Thanksgiving, Bitches.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Life in the Art Room
The art teacher at our school is expecting, so I've been tapped to sub for her while she's having doctor's appointments. Yesterday was one for the books. I learned so much.
It started out well. I love the art room. All that paper and paint and buttons and glitter. There's nothing not to love. So much coming and going. A little clean up and prep, but new kids every 40 minutes. And the fact that the students really like to have Art Ed. makes it an easy day. Usually.
Yesterday started out as a half-day for me, which got changed to a full day when I got there. Not bad, but I would've worn more comfortable shoes, that's all. Dressing for Art is always a challenge, though...professional, yet old or dark enough to hide the spots, or throw away if it gets wrecked. Which happens. Add to that the fact that it was parent visitation, where the Moms and Dads and little siblings sit in on classes, it's never simple.
After bus duty, the Kindergarteners came with their parents. Their project was using patterns, and coloring with markers. It's amazing how many caps can be lost during one half-hour class.
Fifth grade is using black paint and chalk pastels for their project. As I have done in the past with Ketchup, I shook the quart-sized bottle of tempera paint without checking the lid. I splattered black paint high into the air and all over the cabinets, floor and kids' projects. The upside was that I managed to avoid splashing it on myself. Miraculous as that was.
It looked as if the room was attacked by a random pack of angry seagulls. That is, if seagulls pooped black.
Out came the mop and sponges. Just in time for the PTA moms to come through.
The Fourth graders were splattering watered-down white paint over black construction paper to look like outer space. How can a ten-year-old get paint on both her shoes AND her hair? How about on MY shoes and my hair?
Now, if you didn't know, pastels have to be sealed with a spray fixative which smells like airplane glue. With the fifth graders using chalk, and the third graders using oil pastels, PLUS a pregnant Art teacher, guess who inhaled all the fumes? Yep.
I stunk out the entire Kindergarten hallway. I put all the projects on a biggie drying rack, opened the door, pushed the rack outside, and sprayed away. It still got in the building. So much so that the KG teacher, another Preggo, (Seriously. There are FIVE pregnant teachers in the building. I'm *so* not drinking the water in that school. Hell, I won't even let them breathe on me. Keep that Baby Juice to yourself.) Asked if she could shut *my* door. She was getting nauseated.
Hon. If you stuck around in there, you'd be as high as I was. I vaguely remembered waving her off, and floating over to the sink.
So I push the rack right up against the wall, because the wind was picking up. You can probably guess what happened next, right?
My last class of the day was the First Graders and their parents. I looked like I had been dragged through the mud, and was tripped out on brain cell killing fixative. So when a little girl asked "Hey, Mrs. W. Why are those papers blowing all over the place out there?" I had to react quickly.
Ran out, grabbed the cart, and the loose papers just in time to see the door close, leaving me locked outside in the SNOW. Yeah. I said it. As one of the Mommies opened the door for me she yelled "Hey Kids! Look outside. It's SNOWING!!" So all twenty rushed over to the windows to see the flurries. I never did regain control of that class.
So, after bus duty AGAIN, I shuffled home, hung over from the crash after my sealant buzz, with stickers stuck to my feet, paint on my shoes, fuschia chalk on my sweater, a wrecked manicure, and what I think (HOPE) is papier mache in my hair.
To fully appreciate Art, one must suffer through the process. I've paid my dues for today. And I'll go back tomorrow, because it's what I do.
It started out well. I love the art room. All that paper and paint and buttons and glitter. There's nothing not to love. So much coming and going. A little clean up and prep, but new kids every 40 minutes. And the fact that the students really like to have Art Ed. makes it an easy day. Usually.
Yesterday started out as a half-day for me, which got changed to a full day when I got there. Not bad, but I would've worn more comfortable shoes, that's all. Dressing for Art is always a challenge, though...professional, yet old or dark enough to hide the spots, or throw away if it gets wrecked. Which happens. Add to that the fact that it was parent visitation, where the Moms and Dads and little siblings sit in on classes, it's never simple.
After bus duty, the Kindergarteners came with their parents. Their project was using patterns, and coloring with markers. It's amazing how many caps can be lost during one half-hour class.
Fifth grade is using black paint and chalk pastels for their project. As I have done in the past with Ketchup, I shook the quart-sized bottle of tempera paint without checking the lid. I splattered black paint high into the air and all over the cabinets, floor and kids' projects. The upside was that I managed to avoid splashing it on myself. Miraculous as that was.
It looked as if the room was attacked by a random pack of angry seagulls. That is, if seagulls pooped black.
Out came the mop and sponges. Just in time for the PTA moms to come through.
The Fourth graders were splattering watered-down white paint over black construction paper to look like outer space. How can a ten-year-old get paint on both her shoes AND her hair? How about on MY shoes and my hair?
Now, if you didn't know, pastels have to be sealed with a spray fixative which smells like airplane glue. With the fifth graders using chalk, and the third graders using oil pastels, PLUS a pregnant Art teacher, guess who inhaled all the fumes? Yep.
I stunk out the entire Kindergarten hallway. I put all the projects on a biggie drying rack, opened the door, pushed the rack outside, and sprayed away. It still got in the building. So much so that the KG teacher, another Preggo, (Seriously. There are FIVE pregnant teachers in the building. I'm *so* not drinking the water in that school. Hell, I won't even let them breathe on me. Keep that Baby Juice to yourself.) Asked if she could shut *my* door. She was getting nauseated.
Hon. If you stuck around in there, you'd be as high as I was. I vaguely remembered waving her off, and floating over to the sink.
So I push the rack right up against the wall, because the wind was picking up. You can probably guess what happened next, right?
My last class of the day was the First Graders and their parents. I looked like I had been dragged through the mud, and was tripped out on brain cell killing fixative. So when a little girl asked "Hey, Mrs. W. Why are those papers blowing all over the place out there?" I had to react quickly.
Ran out, grabbed the cart, and the loose papers just in time to see the door close, leaving me locked outside in the SNOW. Yeah. I said it. As one of the Mommies opened the door for me she yelled "Hey Kids! Look outside. It's SNOWING!!" So all twenty rushed over to the windows to see the flurries. I never did regain control of that class.
So, after bus duty AGAIN, I shuffled home, hung over from the crash after my sealant buzz, with stickers stuck to my feet, paint on my shoes, fuschia chalk on my sweater, a wrecked manicure, and what I think (HOPE) is papier mache in my hair.
To fully appreciate Art, one must suffer through the process. I've paid my dues for today. And I'll go back tomorrow, because it's what I do.
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