01.12.04 - 8:43 p.m.

Upon the reception of a tiny indoor s'mores grill this weekend (a late Christmas present), Dan and I realized the amount of cooking-related gifts we'd acquired over the holidays.

To wit:
four cookbooks
one 4-qt. saucepan
one 10-inch frying pan
one petite braiser
one griddle with accoutrements (from the Williams-Sonoma gift card)
one coffee grinder (a present received because Carol already had one, if you're splitting hairs)
two springform pans
one 2-qt. souffle dish
jar of Dijon mustard
peppermill
peppercorns to fill said mill
chocolate-covered pretzels
4 jars of gourmet popcorn
cheese powder for popcorn
the s'mores grill
s'mores fixins for the grill
plus various chocolates and foodstuffs in the stockings

Like I said, it's a better hobby to be associated with than 'stuffed frog collector.'

After making grandiose mental plans of going to Whole Foods after work and searing scallops for dinner, I pooped out and ended up in the tub with the new silly Meg Cabot book and my last Tub Tea. (This will no doubt please Dan, who I think was a tad afraid of the monster tea bag sitting on the bathroom shelf. Fear not, Dan. It will threaten you no more.)

Now it's 8:30 and I crave scallops again, but my toenails are wet with a fresh coat of OPI Naples Sugar and I'm in my stripey jammies. It's a cruel world, as Louis Pasteur would say. No odd forms of sea life for me tonight.

Even without the scallops, though, I'm content. "Northern Lad" is playing on the stereo, the fig candle is burning, the latest issues of New York and InStyle are at my side... and my new griddle can make a pretty kickass grilled cheese sandwich later, if need be.