- Layer Bars. Specifically, Seven-Layer Bars*, which have become my standby item to make for any group outing or bring-a-dish party in recent years and thus, are apparently now my baked-goods trademark. I used to shy away from making these for groups, mainly because an old boyfriend turned his nose up at the fact that coconut was involved and I thought perhaps the world was more teeming with coconut-haters than I realized. I have since decided that that is just plain foolishness. Layer bars are delicious, and boys (or, boys like that one, anyway) are stupid.
- Long-length pants and jeans. Damn-near every store carries petites. No where near damn-near every store carries long-length. This is an unfair and heightist situation that must be remedied. I remember one of the first times I realized what a true genius and a visionary Maliavale is was the day she called for an International Size Tribunal. I submit this request to the Tribunal for consideration. Thank you.
- London. During my semester in Scotland, I spent a long weekend in London (as most other students in our program did as well). I remember a friend telling me that, when he relayed his adventures from the weekend to his host mother, she smiled and sighed, "Ah. When you've tired of London, you've tired of life, my love." Yes, yes, I fully realize that is a famous quote said by someone I can't recall just now, but I'm pretty sure the original version didn't have the "my love" part, and really, that was the part that seemed so charming to me. Anyway, if ever I were to get all bold and brave and fully impractical and just pick up and move across the ocean, London is where I would like to go. I have fantasies of simply stepping out of a tube station on my first day there and meeting the fabulous British love of my life. This fantasy probably comes from the opening scenes of Closer, which, now that I think about it, really isn't the best model for the sort of relationship I'm after. Regardless, London is lovely, and I should like to return there sometime soon.
- Lip balm. I knew that my last boyfriend really knew me and paid attention to me the day he wrapped two tubes of my favorite lip balm along with my birthday present for the year. I thought this was ridiculously sweet at the time, but it probably shouldn't have surprised me as much as it did. I am a lip balm addict, and nearly everyone who knows me probably knows my favorite fix. It is a harmless addiction, I say. Until they have a Lip Balm ward at Hazelden, I'm not going to dwell on this too much.
- Lexicography. I love words. I love word games. My tremendous inner nerd secretly thinks it would be hopelessly fun to work at the place where they read and discuss dictionaries all day. (My inner normal person knows it's probably not actually as fun as it sounds.) Even the word lexicography is fun, though. Say it with me: lexicography. Sigh.
- Lattes. Flavored, please. Yum.
- Love Actually. I know it was cheesy and contrived and ridiculous. I don't care. I love that damn movie anyway. Perhaps I'm not fully bitter and dead inside after all. Yay.
- Liquor. Wording it that way is totally Klassy with a capital K, but I can't think of any favorite brand or recipe of spirited beverage that starts with L, so the catch-all term will have to do. Oh! As long as I'm talking about alcohol, let me tell you a little story about my visit to the liquor store tonight. (Shut up; I'm not a drunk; I have a party coming up.) Like most liquor stores, this one clips little tags in front of various wines they want to highlight. Some are printed from the winery; some proclaim the awards and accolades the wine has won. My favorite, though, are the ones hand-printed on bright posterboard by the store employees, describing just why one particular wine is worth your while. Tonight I saw one for an allegedly "dark and dirty" Pinotage that is, apparently, "like licking a chocolate bar off of a blacktop parking lot." Admit it. You're intrigued. So was I. I will be opening that one Saturday night to see just how well that description holds true.
- Lazy Saturdays and Sundays spent lounging in my living room. (I tried to work a few more Ls in there for a little more alliteration, but really I should just wrap this up already, I think.)
- Lists! Duh. I have a category for them in my sidebar, and I partake of all sorts of them in meme form, despite my ambivalence about memes. I have shopping lists and to-do lists and, as I mentioned recently, I sometimes add already-done things to my list just so I can cross them off. Clearly I'm a list girl; I just never realized it until now.
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Edited to add: And libraries! How on earth could I forget libraries?! I should really bump something from my 1-10 and plug this in instead, but that might be taking the letter list game just a bit too seriously, I think.
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Before I close, though, I thought I'd also mention some L things I do not particularly love. These include Lutefisk***, Los Lonely Boys, Lindsay Lohan, leeches, and Legionnaires' disease. Oh. And lettuce laced with e.coli. I actually pulled the leaves off my Bruegger's sandwich today because I'm just that paranoid, I guess. As if I need one more reason not to eat my vegetables. Thanks for that, produce growers of America. (And thank you, letter L, for today's post.)
* This is not my precise recipe, but it is close enough, I think. If you make these, the secret is to pour the condensed milk over the graham cracker crumbs, then add the remaining layers, and finally drizzle a bit more milk on top. Most recipes call for pouring all the condensed milk on top, and that is a bad, bad move, in my experience.
** Not something I am doing lately, but wouldn't it be nice if I were?
*** Two fun facts from this Wikipedia entry: 1. Lutefisk is more prevalent in Minnesota than it is in its native Norway (a fact that doesn't actually surprise me at all), and 2. Norway has a National Information Office for Meat! I find that entirely more amusing than I probably should.