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fandomhighdorms2006-07-21 07:37 pm
carter-i-am.livejournal.com) wrote in fandomhighdorms2006-07-21 07:37 pm
Entry tags:
Main Campfire, Friday evening
Deciding she couldn't face the heat and humidity of the early afternoon Virginia summer, Sam had gone back to her room after the Doctor's class, taken a hot shower (because it was different, thank you), then decided to try something. Something people would appreciate.
Chocolate chip cookies. They printed the recipe right on the package, and she was getting better. She'd taken out the mixing bowls and the ingredients, except for the vanilla. Sam had climbed up on the counter and reached into the cupboard, fumbling around until she'd found what she was looking for. It had smelled vaguely like vanilla to Sam, so she'd measured it out and dumped it into the bowl with the wet ingredients.
She'd stirred and mixed and portioned and baked.
And now, several hours later, there was a plate of innocent looking chocolate chip cookies on the picnic table. They weren't perfect by any stretch of the imagination--some were burnt, some were undercooked, some were torn, but they were cookies.
Next to it was a hand-lettered sign that said: Help yourself!--Sam
[ooc: Okay, how this works is--if you signed up for the plot, have a cookie (or two). They'll taste a little weird, because there's no vanilla in them, but they should still be edible. You also don't have to eat them at the campfire--you can just ping, grab one or two, and nosh later. The effects won't kick in until tomorrow, though, so you can still do whatever you want to do tonight. The post itself is open to all, though.]
Chocolate chip cookies. They printed the recipe right on the package, and she was getting better. She'd taken out the mixing bowls and the ingredients, except for the vanilla. Sam had climbed up on the counter and reached into the cupboard, fumbling around until she'd found what she was looking for. It had smelled vaguely like vanilla to Sam, so she'd measured it out and dumped it into the bowl with the wet ingredients.
She'd stirred and mixed and portioned and baked.
And now, several hours later, there was a plate of innocent looking chocolate chip cookies on the picnic table. They weren't perfect by any stretch of the imagination--some were burnt, some were undercooked, some were torn, but they were cookies.
Next to it was a hand-lettered sign that said: Help yourself!--Sam
[ooc: Okay, how this works is--if you signed up for the plot, have a cookie (or two). They'll taste a little weird, because there's no vanilla in them, but they should still be edible. You also don't have to eat them at the campfire--you can just ping, grab one or two, and nosh later. The effects won't kick in until tomorrow, though, so you can still do whatever you want to do tonight. The post itself is open to all, though.]
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