OH!

Visited Ikea with Phang on Saturday in search of bowls. Bowl-find failed, returned instead with pillows and a rolling pin (haha I'm weird in many ways).

The best part was the bake fest they were having at the kitchen displays. (Perhaps they were trying to prove that their kitchens were totally practical and usable?) In any case there were Swedish people baking Swedish Christmas goodies. What's better? The gingersnaps and cinnamon buns were lovely.

Took a copy of the recipes and tried making the cinnamon roll-like buns at home, not too bad a result (: I burnt about 4 though, so that makes 28 edible ones. And my dad says there's not enough sugar, even when I used heaped tablespoonfuls. Oh well, he has a sweet tooth.

I thus conclude that baking is REALLY therapeutic. I sound like some gourmet-obsessed nerd but it feels good when you're kneading and rolling out dough for some reason. (Yay my first attempt at bread dough! Fun!)

(Geez I realised my writing has become so act-atas nowadays. I shall, like, try to, like, type, like, like that. Or use words like nowsaday.)