Anywho- there's your Z and the end of our little alphabet game ( for now, anyway)
Z
cake
To begin, make sure that you start late into the evening, preferably after a long day of chores and errands and while still recovering from a serious knock to the noggin. If you can hear the night song of crickets, all the better.
Decide at the very last minute to add a layer, so as not to waste so much cake batter. Disregard that the only remaining pan is square.
You will want to buy professional cake supplies the day before, to convince yourself that THIS cake will turn out better than all the rest. . . it WON'T actually, but at least you'll have some motivation to help you make it through the night.
Once cakes have cooled, take new, handy dandy cake leveler and begin to saw away at the cake layers. Yes, they look crooked but that is IMPOSSIBLE since you used an actual cake leveler.
Set crooked layers to the side.
Disregard under-baked center in largest cake layer.
Claim it was meant to be "like LAVA cake" all along.
Puree spotty bananas with cream cheese and powdered sugar- double the recipe because there is so much cake, surely you will need MORE than less. Don't worry, it will be so late when you are pouring 3/4 of the bowl's contents down the disposal later on that you won't feel near as guilty as if you were wide awake.
Over Blend and Refrigerate.
1 hour later pull over blended and somewhat soupy banana mixture from fridge and begin to assemble cakes, using banana mix as glue.
Take stacked cake to closed fridge, balance heavy cake plate in bad arm and open fridge door.
Pick top two layers off of the floor and piece back together on top of the cake.
Wipe up the floor
Tell NO ONE
Place broken, crumbly cake in fridge to "firm" before frosting
Melt and pour white chocolate shapes
Botch and repeat
Botch again and settle for half of a star and candy melts, un melted (circles)
Make Dark Chocolate Ganache.
Spill a little, just for fun
Think you are clever and leave out 2 Oz chocolate to "thicken" ganache
Be dismayed to find this is not the result you get
Remind yourself to skip all notions of cleverness in the future
Later: Use Ganache anyway because you don't have time to wait for another batch
Begin to slice miniature marshmallows in half-- you will need to do a whole bag to cover this cake. Look on the bright side- twice the marshmallows for the price of one bag!
Spray marshmallows with aerosol food coloring and coat with glitter. Do this in several different bowl for each color and variant used on the cake (6-Yellow, Orange, Teal, Purple, Red, Blue)
Graduate to Jumbo marshmallows
Slice into thirds
Repeat color and glitter coating
Look at purple glittery fingers, reflect back on dream that prophesied this
Begin long, tedious process of covering cake with marshmallows
Realize you are short about 50 marshmallows
Begin slicing and coloring again
Affix star, circles and candles to cake
Place in Fridge
Realize candle makes it too big, DO NOT PLACE IN FRIDGE
Disassemble top layer
Place in Fridge
Look At Clock- 12:30, Not Bad
Look At Kitchen
Fetch Cooking Rum and A Broom . . .
daddy'sGIRL
Well, pardon me!
I didn't realize I was SO in her way :)
girlfriend
- he intended to give his new love MY fountain
- HE was the culprit who kept sneaking the thing on when I wasn't looking.
Obviously he's quite fond of the thing...I didn't have the heart to tell him that the broken clay vessels aren't meant to be honey pots, because after all, there's no reason they couldn't have honey in them.
Like any man with a plan, he also told us that he had "accidentally" left his Bible and needed to go back and get it.
Sure.
Right.
"ACCIDENTALLY"
My Foot.
But it worked,
we will go back
At least for the book.
And
maybe
her
name.
Y
FlashBackFriday
Since it it the 30th, here's a list of 30 things from
"back in the day"
(cause I'm temporarily out of other stuff to say)
MEPSI (North Augusta, SC)
Sky City Stores
Slap Bracelets (could be bought at Mepsi)
Jelly Shoes
Little Libby
Movie Booths (found in sky city stores)
Tye Dye
Oh!Calcutta (Regency Mall)
CABOODLES (a must have)
Sweet Pickles (not the food)
Making Friendship Pins
Flash Cubes
Glow In The Dark Stars Barbie
Garbage Pail Kids (outlawed in my house)
You Can't Do That On Television ( also outlawed)
Sticker Books/collections
Pencils with interchangeable leads
Grab Bags from Hello Kitty
Steam Powered toy car
Sno Cap Drive In
French Hook earrings vs. Post
guestReview
fairyTale
SeventySix
I do not try to hide this "undomesticated tidbit" about myself - it is a pretty well known(and agreed upon)fact that, without pre-packaged frozen foods my small family would have long ago:
a.) died of malnutrition
(I can go days without remembering to cook)
or
b.) died of food poisoning
( accidental, of course)
So, it should come as no surprise that our freezer routinely contains "Smuckers In A Box" or as they are more commonly known Uncrustables™- frozen, crust less sandwiches.
And anyone who knows my kids must also know about the peanut butter fixation and could win fifty bucks easy if I were gullible enough to let you bet that much on which variety
(of grilled cheese or peanut butter)we regularly buy.
What MAY surprise you- and then again not, if you know my four year old- is that my house STILL smells like smoke, some six hours later.
... smoke and peanut butter.
For those uninitiated or beyond the years of packing lunches, let's bring you up to speed...
The general idea of an Uncrustable sam' ich is that, in the time it takes an average brown bag "sammy" to get soggy, the frozen puff of crust less delight will have thawed to a perfectly chilled lunch food-- they are indeed quite delightful, when done right.
However, as I am sure you can all relate, in this day and age, even convenience isn't as convenient as we'd like, and sometimes we like to help things that are considered to be fast by most standards to be even faster by our own set of too-high expectations.
And THAT is why, occasionally, princeCharming has been known to microwave one of those little Uncrustables for 15 seconds or so- the equivalent of a twenty minute thaw at room temp.
So it is understandable that, when he was told to wait for the sandwiches to thaw, Fisher thought he could help things along. He was hungry, after all... really hungry!
And he had seen it done before, after all.
It is even understandable that no one saw him grab the box from the counter top or heard him open the microwave door, since 3 of us were outside, playing in the sprinkler and the other one of is a father...who is allowed to nap-
(see Mother's Handbook for why mom's are not allowed this luxury)
You can't really blame him for what happened next, right? If the state of Georgia doesn't expect him to know his numbers until he's six, how can we hold him responsible for not knowing the difference between 15 seconds and 76 minutes?
It was the smell that brought me in-- the smell that still lingers six hours, two open doors and four open windows later. The Uncrustable never made it past the first minute... there remains a jelly stain from the explosion and the inverted letters from the melted label, forever etched into the base of the microwave.
Perhaps it is time for the Freezer Queen to do some thawing of her own and buy a jar of peanut butter
(the last one we bought had salmonella in it)
Anyone know how to rid the house of the smell of burnt PB&J?
Strike A Match, perhaps?
SUNDAY_Ray
Amongst some of my more recent mp3 downloads have been a handful of Ray Stevens' treasures that they actually seem to LIKE
(and not just because I tell them to)
They first got acquainted with Stevens' silly style at Christmas time with his
"Santa Clause is Watching you ( he's everywhere!)
but in recent days have come to appreciate him also for The Monkees, and The Streak, amongst others.
And though they thoroughly enjoy any and all references to nudity, we have purposefully shielded their ears from
"What we gonna do when the kids are gone"
because we KNOW how much of a kick they would get out of hearing "Buck Naked" that many times in a row.
for more Stevens' flashbacks
see also:
revival
The thoughts leading up to this post began a few weeks back, when in an effort to saturate our kids with fond memories from our own childhood, princeCharming and I downloaded some "classic" (old) music for a road trip.
After hearing the Mississippi Squirrel Revival for the first time in a long time, I got to thinking about how many churches I wish I'd have thought to smuggle a squirrel into.
But I told myself " Self, do not post a cynical and squirrel waving post until you have visited this new church, or it may reflect unfairly upon their service"
And so I waited until today- today, when I wish I would have smuggled TWO squirrels into the new church we were visiting.
I could have left when they started with the Nicene creed...
( I DO BELIEVE IN...well, let's save all that for another post, shall we?)
But...BUT-- the pastor was a good teacher- sound and true, and deserving more respect than a crazed squirrel... I had heard him on SermonAudio, so, we stuck it out. Still, you just can't ignore the fact that releasing one or two squirrels down the aisles may help the regular members to appreciate this sound teaching too, by waking them from their Sunday morning nap!
((Sunday Morning Nap- page 3 in your bulletin, please snore to the beat of the Doxology)
tongue in cheek ,of course--which prevents it from being sacrilege...
I think...
conversation with a BumbleBEE
Translation: you're too close for comfort
ME: Don't threaten me, little bee--I'll chop that shrub down entirely!
I continued to sit there, listening to the birds and the bees, smelling the flowers and gazing at our full bloom tree.
I did not go inside until the sun had set.
And the bee and me?
We made as friendly as one can expect to get with a bee.
X
You should check, you may be one too.
purple
I dreamt I was every bit as purple as they are blue-- and dusted with cake glitter too.
I also dreamt another wreck
it spun me 'round and broke my neck
and that my brother was crying at the zoo
(booHoo?)
i went to bed pure (as i get)-- it was too late to take anything that would leave me zonked in the morning...
... call it Odd A'La Natural
some engineering types-- go figure!
(HOW they did it)
metzger
W
Margaret
For my cuz
RHYNO
just becuz...
well, he knows
It is being passed on to a new generation ,
don't that make you feel...
good?
old?
Here's To Squaredance!
( you're secret is safe with me)
V
I love chocolate, banana, strawberry and chunky monkey, but after an hour spent on the ice cream aisle, I usually always resort to vanilla, with the little vanilla bean flecks. If for no other reason than "it's easiest" but also because "I can turn it into whatever I want it to be"
tiger
**It may interest you (or not) to know that we had Chinese food on Monday and while waiting for our almond chicken and egg rolls to arrive, we deciphered our Chinese Year from the place mats-- princeCHARMing is a tiger.
tra-la-la-la-la
And woke up singing it today...
Maybe it was seeing the truck yesterday and noticing the headlight hanging out of the grill, or maybe I knew more of the lyrics than I realized and related them to myself. But as I read over the lyrics I still can't help but feel
I have been singing today - to myself and still as awful as ever- but I suppose that means this road is getting shorter and a better one is just ahead.
U
patrick
May the wind be always at your back
May the sun shine warm upon your face
the rains fall soft upon your fields
and until we meet again,
The road rose up to meet us indeed, and then I lay on it like an asphalt pillow. The wind was not at our backs, but knocked out of us completely as we collided with the other truck. My hair was singed and my neck burnt, but not from the warmth of the sun, and the only light came from the ambulance flashers. No rains fell, but there were plenty of tears, as the children looked on in fear. We were no doubt held safe in his palm because we are alive today
A girl named Kelly
hiding from the party crowd
meets
A drunk driver
who leaves behind
A red and kiss-shaped bruise
on her chest
with his truck
once upon
a St Patrick's Day
night
in SAVANNAH...
Luck Of The Irish
or
Isn't It Ironic?
Whose to say...
But the details go something like this:
We were involved in a wreck Saturday night. The other driver had been drinking and pulled out into oncoming traffic- he has since apologized profusely and taken complete responsibility
We may have been doing 50, 55, nothing more than the speed limit, but we sped right past that moment of relief, when you almost run into someone or something but feel the brakes catch and don't collide after all.
Like reaching the end of a rainbow, there exists something at the end of that moment too, but it is nothing like Gold. It is an awful and helpless realization that
"This is going to happen"
And it did happen, but that is all I remember clearly- that moment of impact and the gun powdery smell of the air bag exploding, until a few minutes later when the faces above me were telling me to lie still.
I did as they said even though obedience runs contrary to my normal mode of operation.They seemed like they may have a point about paralyz-ation. But I wasn't being stubborn, I really felt ok, aside from the burn on my neck. (I have a "soul patch" where my hair was singed and now feels like "sistah" hair) I was soon allowed to stand up and sign away my rights to dramatics and fan fare.(an ambulance ride) I just wanted to go home, to be the one to see my little ones to their beds.
Two days later and I am not whining but I am not running any marathons anytime soon either.
My MIL, who is experienced at ordering around ER staff, took me for some "Just In Case" peeks and prods today- so I got to show off the sexy bruise on my hip and be shamed for the hundredth time about my seat belt's absence.
(I am always in the backseat for something,I take it off so much to tend the kids, it has become easy to leave it off-that's my story and I'm sticking to it-but, if it will save me any number of lectures " I WILL ALWAYS WEAR MY SEAT BELT FROM NOW ON!" ( I have one hand on a Bible and will have a camera installed on the dash if that is not enough)
X rays showed nothing serious, for all those concerned family members- just some deep bruising and nothing that
"a few days and a vial of pills"
won't cure
I have been given permission to make friendly with some Loratab, so long as I stop the druggie dance when the pain ends. They've given me 30 days or 30 pills to get over it
Much to my children's delight, school has been called off until further notice. There will be no dosing until night time, when I have some back up and am free to fall asleep, but I'm a pretty easy sell of taking it easy for the next few days . . . it would be cool to use the line "it only hurts when I breathe" but it actually hurts at any given opportunity. I hate to be so dramatic though, so forget I mentioned it, eh?
I'm sure I have more thoughts on this whole thing, I am sure there will be more to say, but I'm still kind of dazed and mostly just needed a place holder here...
UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN... well, you know, Palm of His hand and all.....
T
boar
naturally7
No doubt, these boys are talented. I am not sure that I will ever choose beat boxing as a personal download,(who can say?) but I have always appreciated a Capella style and this fits into it.
(back in the day, when getting a cd player for Christmas was the equivalent of getting the newest iPod, one of my first cd's to play on my new, high tech cd/cassette combo player was Accapella (woot)
S
( named for an actual place in SanFrancisco, where others have taken the slide)
ketchup
And since I am old on the inside-- I had a smashing good time at last night's An Evening With Garrison Keillor. pC was entertained too, though a few times he warned me he was getting drowsy, which is understandable. Keillor has that deep, lulling voice that flows like a cold mountain creek; he could be a hypnotist. In fact, I think it no coincidence that he convinced the entire audience to skip their badly needed bathroom breaks ( ok, so I am speaking personally here) to stay with him through the intermission and have a sing a long.
We sang one of Johnny Mercer's songs to honor the fact that he, Garrison Keillor, was in Savannah, because let's face it- the rest of us live here. In fact, once the lights were raised and we had applauded for the last time, we realized the entire evening had been a show by GK, for GK, and starring GK, but we were ok with that, because he never did snap his fingers or ring a bell; we left still under his spell.
This was no Prairie Home Companion. There were no mentions of ketchup or powdermilk biscuits, no crazy sound effects or Guy Noir. It was Wobegon all the same though, with original songs set to hymn music and a story that could have only happened in a town where "all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average"
Much like the stories in his books, the show was at the same time repetitive and unique. I guess you could say it was "Pretty Good"
pixieDust
Someone should have told Fisher.
It all started with this blasted saving day light nonsense. I had already lost an hour thanks to the springing forward, not to mention it was Sunday afternoon and we had just come home from a large and sleep inducing meal at Jalapenos.
I had fallen asleep on the over sized armchair, despite
(some would say narcolepsy-
Eventually, I startled awake and, feeling a bit lost, went to find my prince. I discovered that he too had suffered a bout of
And I, being the submissive wife that I am, agreed.
"But only a minute," I said, and I set the timer on my phone to make my point...
Twenty minutes and a second, joint power nap later, I woke up and decided the kids had been left to themselves long enough. It had evolved into such a lazy day, I decided there was no sense in spoiling it now with crazy notions like laundry and dishes. I decided to spend a little one on one time with each kid, and found my way into Chan's room for a serious Katamari session. He is always asking me to play the game with him, and I am always saying "Later", so I was feeling like a boy scout, when my prince found his way back to me.
"Come to the living room" he said "You need to see this."
"Just tell me what it is, please" I replied, hoping not to have to give up my turn to roll ( I was up to 10 cm)
"No, really, you need to come in here", he was insistent.
And so I did.
The living room was covered in soot. The tan carpet (which was thankfully already scheduled to be replaced on Tuesday anyway)the red sofa, khaki walls and black cabinets too, now all streaked gray with the soft,powdery ash that has been sitting in the fireplace since we burned the last log in December.
princeCharming went into disciplinarian mode, while I, guilty at heart for power napping in the first place,(Rule # 1 in the mother's handbook"There shall be no rest for the weary,and any attempts to obtain rest will result in extra work and/or major catastrophe)decided to investigate and "chalk" the whole thing up to my own fault for leaving the room - and the children- unattended.
"What were you thinking?" I asked, not having to feign the disbelief "Why did you do this?"
With a smile, he quickly-and innocently- explained "It's fairy dust, momma"
"It is NOT fairy dust" wasn't an ample answer, because he then assured me that, indeed, it WAS fairy dust and he was only trying to fly.
(you can however, spend the rest of your "lazy Sunday afternoon" scrubbing soot out of everything -- it says so right there in the handbook)