It all started with Pinterest. Pinterest is, in my opinion, a bad invention. It is yet another internet sensation waiting to devour the time and disintegrate the contentment of the unwary. Its main (only) virtue, in my opinion, is that it presents an orderly and simple way of keeping track of ideas. I love order. . . so I became pinterested. I also became intrigued by the recipe for homemade fudgsicles that I stumbled on one day while looking for ways to use buttons with small children. The recipe called for Nutella, which I hadn’t tasted since I was in Israel in 2000, and skim milk. Blame it on pregnancy: I actually “pinned” this idea.
It tumbled around in the back of my mind for six months, until I spotted Nutella sold in a great little glass tumbler the other day. I purchased this item. Today, already busy in the kitchen baking our little Harriet bean a banana birthday cake, I decided those fudgsicles needed to happen. I shoved cake-baking paraphernalia aside mid-cake and glopped 1/3 cup Nutella into a cup of skim milk (this was the extent of the recipe–it could only be simplified if it said “Open Nutella. Insert spoon.”). The two did not want to mix. My usual sources of inspiration failing me (Question: “What would Mom do?” Answer: “She would not make this recipe.”), I reached for the power appliance. No, not the vacuum–the other one. A blender stick. It seemed like a good idea. Important background information: I was up until nearly four last night thinking I was in labor. This morning I realized that I cannot go into labor with any peace of mind until I mop the kitchen floor and scrub the cabinets. So I did that before lunch, just in case. I hadn’t even put the rugs back yet.
Back to the blender stick. I never do manage those things well. The two did mix–but in the process I freckled the clean kitchen floor and cabinets with Nutella-milk droplets. Every. Where.
At this point Norah called from the living room: “What are you doing, Mommy?”
“Being idiotic!” I shouted in maternal wisdom. “What are you doing?”
“I’m being idiotic, too, Mommy!” she replied. She likes to be just like me.
I’m no quitter so I carried on in the chaos. I poured the mix into plastic popsicle molds. All I had to do was slide it in my mini-freezer. Until I realized that the popsicle mold was too tall to fit in the plastic freezer drawers. I tried it in three of them just in case appearances were misleading and they were not in fact all the same size. And spilling the sticky mix all over the inside of the freezer in the process. Now I was just mad. Leaving the freezer, I slapped the mold on the countertop, grabbed some scissors, and began hacking at the plastic stems of the popsicle mold. Surely I could shorten those things and make the darn thing fit. After capsizing the mold I learned it is most effective to remove the sticks before attempting to saw through them with dull scissors. When the first one finally chipped off it was a bit startling–the plastic bit shot across the kitchen like a BB pellet and dropped into the cake mix. Soon plastic stem bits in primary colors were flying around the kitchen at the speed of light and fudgsicle mix was dribbling down the cabinets. Undeterred, I shoved the mold into the freezer, where, I am pleased to say, it fit.