If only my sleep could be as sweet as the desserts I eat…

Life is something that happens when you can’t get to sleep. ~ Fran Lebowitz, American author/social commentator

I envy people who can sleep anywhere, in any position. Unlike them, I’m completely wide-eyed during those 13-hour transatlantic flights, to say nothing of jetlag upon reaching my destination. Willing sleep to come is exasperating and it winds me up so much that shut-eye is nigh impossible. To make matters worse, I’m also a very light sleeper; any noise will rouse me from slumber and often, I’m unable to return to sleep’s sweet embrace.

I’m far from being an insomniac or relying on artificial means of getting to sleep. Sometimes I suffer from a full mind and an empty stomach or an excess of coffee consumed too late in the day. Sometimes I’m overly anxious or excited about something. The week before I get married, I survived on four hours of sleep a night. My eyebags were monstrous on the big day but thank goodness for mousse foundation. But being unable to sleep just because sleep eludes me is the worst. When my night begins to practically guarantee hours of tossing and turning, and when reading any one or two of the three or four books by my bedside doesn’t help, more aggressive measures are called for.

The world is very different when I’m trying to sleep. Silence is amplified and time stands still. Counting sheep (or sweets) is silly and staring at ceilings is counterproductive. Listening to music is irreverent even when piped down low, and I don’t like watching TV. So I sometimes peep through my curtains into the windows of my neighbor, a famous artist, who prefers to paint during the witching hours. But even that gets tiresome after like, two minutes. So I look over at my Bin and check on Boo, both blissfully in slumber. My Bin’s snores are “cataclysmic,” and Boo sometimes giggles in her sleep which is cute to watch. Once, in a fit of mischief brought on by sleep deprivation, I grab my Bin’s nostrils with my thumb and index finger and shut them tight. With one explosive intake of air, his eyelids fly open and he smacks away my offending fingers. “What the f***, Lor?!!” He cries in outrage. I grin naughtily.

cinnamon rolls baked in fluted pans

Most of the time however, I find myself alone in my library with my 350++ cookbooks keeping me company. It’s no substitute for a warm body, but hey. Soon, something calls out to be baked: once, coffeecake, another night, scones. Earlier this morning, I make waffles and cinnamon rolls.

I’d like to share the recipe for the waffles aptly named Amazing Overnight Waffles. I first chance upon it in the book, The 150 Best American Recipes, and one of the BEST it truly is. I like it so much that I make it four times in a month and I may never try another waffle recipe again.

The recipe’s uniqueness lies in its use of yeast and requires a cold and slow overnight rise in the refrigerator. In the morning, it’s bubbly and thick with that familiar beer-like aroma. Poured onto the white-hot grids of my waiting waffle iron, the batter cooks up crispy and extra chewy. Have at it! And I wish you all the sweet dreams that escape me.