The trouble with toffee

I made toffee a little bit ago. I know, right?! I got a craving yesterday - my sister makes this fabulous toffee but she doesn't live close enough for me to just demand she make it for me so I can run over and get it. And, she's kinda busy. So I search my house for her recipe but I don't have it and she's at work and doesn't have it there, so the toffee didn't happen yesterday.

It almost didn't happen today either. I have been negligent in my grocery shopping responsibilities and my cupboards and fridge are pretty low and I used the last of the butter making waffles this morning. But the lure of the toffee was SO STRONG (ok, and we have nothing for dinner tonight) that I made a grocery run and came home and made toffee.

It is now sitting on the sun porch cooling.

And there's the problem.

Toffee is not one of those things that you can look forward to for days, make, and then eat right away. Even though it technically is "done" I still can't eat it. You kinda have to predict that you are going to crave toffee and then make it so you have a few hours to let it cool completely and you're not wandering out to the sun porch every 5 minutes to see if the chocolate looks a little less glisteny.

Or you have to have it on hand at all times. Which may be my new plan.

Yes, it's gorgeous outside but I have to....

10:55 a.m. – Arrive at Dr.’s office for 11:00 a.m. appointment.

11:00 a.m. – Fill out paperwork for 10 minutes about my 7-year old son’s pain tolerance and smoking and drinking habits (How about separate paperwork for the kids – just an idea!)

12:10 p.m.. – Ask receptionist if I have time to run out and get lunch; told we are "next.” Right.

12:20 p.m. – Get escorted back to “cast room.” (My son doesn’t have a cast, just a sling.)

12:25 p.m. – Get escorted to X-ray where my son insists on posing like he is in a police lineup. The amused nurse lets him look at the x-ray and he promptly points out his elbow as the break in his arm. I don’t correct him.

12:30 p.m. – Dr.’s Resident comes in and asks my son some questions, makes him move his arm around, and flicks his fingers. Says he is going to go look at the x-ray and will be right back.

12:33 p.m. – Watch resident walk into another examining room where he remains for 7 minutes.

12:47 p.m. – Doctor comes in. Looks at x-ray (shows my son where the break really is) and says to leave the sling on for 3-4 more weeks. Can he ride the bus? No, not a good idea. I beg the doctor to put him in a cast. (Because the sling offers ZERO protection and he's a not-particularly-athletic 7-year-old boy who could slip or trip or goof his way into an even worse break and worrying about it is TOTALLY stressing me out and all the latest tests show that stress causes belly fat and that is the LAST thing I need.) Doctor informs me that the only cast for this kind of break is the State of Liberty cast then shows us a picture of a kid with a cast around his entire torso and up his arm that is straight up in the air.

12:53 p.m. – Still deciding if the humor derived from the Statue of Liberty cast will outweigh the inconvenience.

12:55 p.m. – No, it probably won’t.

1:10 p.m. – Hit the McDonald’s next door. See several other children from the waiting room. (Are they making us wait so long to drive up McD’s business? I would have taken him there anyway, I swear!)