Actually, I'll be honest. That had very little to do with the thinking. I was walking home from the store this morning with aseptically-packaged milk and some figs, and instead of paying attention to where I was going, I was thinking about, well, a lot of stuff.
I suppose that Just My Dinner is the only thing I do that can not be classified as a chore or schoolwork, no matter how hard you try. Cooking, well, everyone has to eat, and that is just about my only other hobby.
This also serves as an organizational tool. Without it, if I lost the scratch piece of paper I scrawled random ingredient measurements without any details on it for the almond-cherry cheesecake ice cream I made last week, I wouldn't be able to make it again, which I will probably be doing since my dad's friend called to tell me I should. Make it again that is, not lose my papers. He also told me it was runny and he had to freeze it, so I'm sure how much of it he'd had when he said that. We gave it to him since it had been slowly melting in our freezer over the 29 hours before we gave it to him. It seemed like a better plan than throwing it out.
When I went to Iran last summer, I temporarily abandoned my blog in favor a newer one just for that purpose. I felt less restricted, it had no history to tie it down and I was freer. Mom said my history teacher had rubbed off on me and I was writing better. I still think I ramble like I'm trying to cover the state in roads, but maybe it has gotten better.
And no, those figs have no recipe attached to them. I was just excited to see some semi-affordable ones and my hopes were dashed by the blandness. But what did I expect. This is the midwest.