That sweet sticky icky


How is it possible that I’m able to consume MORE calories on a “no solid foods” diet than I am when there are no rules? Custards. Baked goods. Gummies. Chocolate. Cadbury eggs. Whole clumps of brown sugar. That’s how.

The gaping hole in the back of my jaw where my wisdom tooth used to be means that I am not allowed to do any strenuous exercise (lame, as the weekend is when I try to catch up for a week of indiscretions that typically includes at least one incidence of eating butter by itself). It also means no real chewing action, although vigorous gumming is allowed on the other side. So while, say, steamed broccoli and baked chicken breasts are completely off-limits, fresh sticky buns dripping with brown sugar goo are totally reasonable food options. Poor me, right?

Another staple of the weekend pity-party has been Disney Princess soup. It’s Campbell’s chicken noodle soup, but the noodles are shaped like tiaras. Campbell’s knows me so well.

So this is the King Arthur Flour sticky bun recipe, modified to include macadamias and apples rather than raisins and pecans. Pecans, I didn’t have. And raisins, I wouldn’t have thought twice about until I felt a sharp, sticky sting on the side of my face, and then another, and then another, finally realizing that Chris was hurling them at me like a displeased chimp. Chris hates raisins. So I went with the apple-macadamia combo, and it was pretty good. I would have preferred no nuts at all I think (hehehe).

I’m going to go back to my drug coma now, in my footy pajamas, waiting for the corn-and-smithfield-ham chowder to finish simmering on the stove. I decided chowders are okay for the healing process. My body looks forward to savory food of some kind. And I have leftover buttermilk bikkies from yesterday morning to go with it. Day-old bikkies make fabulous chowder dippers.

6 thoughts on “That sweet sticky icky”

  1. I love that anybody else would be sullenly slurping down jello and pureed soups, but not you – you make sticky buns and buttermilk biscuits, bless your heart.

    Hope your socket’s staying…moist?

  2. I wish I were there to nurture you, though sick kids were never exactly my forte. I would probably make you a slurpee of some sort (heavily spiked for analgesic purposes) and pile your bed high with Berenstain Bear books. I’m thinking healing thoughts of you, my sweet Goddess.

  3. I LOVE the apple macademia combo.

    … am praying for a swift recovery for you. Especially since, if you keep eating sweetened condensed milk with a spoon, tragedy might ensue.

  4. Cater is my alter-ego. It rhymes with tater, gator, tomater, and a 4-syllabic word that I won’t say but I’m sure you can think of! FLove you. Momma

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