Today I made some cinnamon rolls, layered with a quarter-inch of frosting apiece. Awesome.
Every now and then I get the urge to make some, but they’re a bit of work and involve the bread machine– the one piece of technology in our house that I don’t understand– which means I more or less have to convince Laralee to fire it up and make the dough for me. And she always refuses because they’re so incredibly delic– err, unhealthy.
But today I broke her iron will, mostly by rubbing her shoulder. Go figure.
(Her shoulder was sore because we spent yesterday afternoon tossing a frisbee and a baseball around, and apparently her arm wasn’t up to the task. So a bit of massage felt heavenly and after a bit of negotiation she agreed that in exchange for a good shoulder rub she’d make the cinnamon roll dough.)