Literally Pieces Of Cake

I started the day with the plan of making a cake.  Not just any cake, but a blood orange cake with blood orange cream and layers.  The recipe was rather long, a whole page with extremely detailed instructions.  There was also a warning about being careful if it was too humid out and such.  Okay so not just a long recipe, a bit challenging.  Okay so daunting is the right word.

But the whole day stretched endlessly in front of me and why not.  The cake was for a friend who had just started up a new business and was in need of a pick-me-up.  So yes bring on this daunting recipe.  I’m ready.  Or so I thought.

And then the daunting recipe was brought forth with ingredients and measuring implements.  It may have been the apron that started the process. Yes the apron.  The one I never wear.  Except today for some reason I felt the need to wear it.  That may have been the beginning of the great unravel.

Or perhaps it was when the first orange decided it didn’t want to be zested.  I mean it did  protest via squirting me on the eye when I set about to juicing it.  I should have taken all those signs into account and questioned if the cake would really do justice for my friend.

But that’s just not me.  I’m too determined or stubborn.  So I carried on making the cake.  I mixed and stirred and sifted and baked.  I whipped and spread and tried like crazy to make it all level.   Surely it’s okay if the cake looks homemade.  I mean we all know I’m not a professional baker.  It’s the thought and all that after all.

So it is a bit lopsided and the blood orange cream wasn’t spread perfectly.  But no big deal.  Nope the big deal wasn’t even all the dishes, amount of time or anything like that.  Driving the cake to my friend, not a big deal. Making the cake and delivering the cake are what you do for a friend after all. Dropping the cake on her floor?  Priceless.  In the wrong way.  Other than she had a few good laughs, the kind of laughs that make you cry.  But the thought and the heart-felt intent is there right?

Fresh Air, Do You Care

My mother used to say fresh air would help you sleep better.  I never really understood how simply being outside would help me sleep better later that night.  Whether I read a book in the house or read a book outside,  seem to sleep the same.  So I had always assumed this to be an excuse to get me outside.

And yet.  And yet friends who have small children say that they notice a difference if the children are outside during the day to how they sleep that night.  It’s apparently a deeper sleep and the potential for the child to sleep in the next morning is greatly increased.  But is it the outdoor air or is it the child playing himself to exhaustion?

You see here is what I don’t understand.  Animals live outside.  Some even spend their whole lives outside.  Do they sleep better than animals that go into borrows or dens or barns?  I have, on occasion, nursed an injured animal or two in my house.  I’ve even raised some orphans until they could manage on their own.  I didn’t notice a difference in how they slept.  But again I’m no expert so I may be missing the cues.

Does this mean if I want to stay awake longer or sleep fitfully I should not go outside?  By the way the dogs don’t seem any different if they have been outside or spent all day indoors.  Perhaps I shall have to send Beloved out for a period of time and then observe his sleep.

What do you think?  Does fresh air, even that with pollution, help people sleep better?

Medical Mania or My Crazy Medical Mind

I have at least three terminal illnesses and a few rather exotic ones as well.  At least according to my research.  On the Internet.  Which of course is always the best way source of diagnosing oneself.  Especially if you allow yourself to go to the most extreme measures.

For instance, I have no clue how this happened, but I have a small area on my finger tip that feels as if something is embedded in it.  Now there is nothing visible to the naked eye, so after some research it’s rather clear that I have only a short time left before my finger falls off.  Hey it could happen.  Perhaps.  But I hope not.

I had developed a strange pain the area of my ribs so that’s clearly a collapsed lung.  Has to be right?  At least something serious because a strained muscle is umm not the fun stuff the Internet brought up.

Even better is that friends will use the Internet to help me solve my concerns.  So when I mentioned that I was feeling more exhausted than usual, it was determined that I must have terminal cancer.  That was from a close friend who was trying to help me.  She struggled trying to break the news to me.

Broken toe?  Hardly.  My toe wasn’t broken, the bone was dissolving and the foot would clearly eventually fall off.  So that’s going for me too.

And I know I’m not alone in this fun.  And that’s kind of what it is, I mean I obviously have some serious health issues with lupus, but it’s also amusing in a strange way.  It wouldn’t be if my bones were dissolving and my foot was going to fall off.  It wouldn’t be, if I took this as my only form of diagnosis.

Waterscapes Of A Sort

Some people have swimming pools on their property.  Some of those swimming pools are big affairs.  We had an inflatable pool, for the dogs, but it didn’t last the whole season.  But some people have big pools, made of concrete.  He’s humans can swim and even dive in.

Clearly we are not those people with that kind of pool.  Because if we were those people, our dogs would be in that pool and not an inflatable pool.  And that’s not even because we’d want the dogs in the pool.  Nope, that would be because the dogs had made up their minds that they belonged there.

But we don’t have those problems, because as I said we don’t have a pool.  We do, however, have a canal.  Yep a canal.  They are all the rage I think, or will be.  I mean anyone can have a pool.  But a canal?  It takes a bold  person to dig a canal in their yard.  Especially when that person’s land doesn’t go into open water.  But these, my friends are minor things.  Because we have a canal.

We didn’t start off wanting a canal.  Wasn’t planned.  We simply ripped up some paving stones because we needed to re-level out the area.  The problem is once we ripped up these massive paving stones it rained.  Rain gathers in depressions.  Paving stones leave depressions in the earth.  Add a considerable amount more rain and viola, you too can have a canal.  If you do it right you can even have boats in your canal.  We do.  Granted they are small, paper boats, but hey.  It all starts with a dream!

Not So Simple Really

It was a simple question really, emeralds or pearls.  I just wanted to know which necklace to wear to the fancy dress party.  But somehow the simple question lead to a much larger discussion.  A larger discussion that somehow ended with me not wearing either necklace.  Of course it also resulted in me not going out to the party either.

What I thought was a discussion about whether the emeralds or pearls went better with my dress somehow ended up being a discussion about ethics and morality.  I’ve never managed a short discussion about ethics or morality, certainly not with Beloved.  Beloved lives for these discussion.  The man spends his time thinking about these things and then trying to figure out how to fit them into conversation.

apparently emeralds are unethical what with having to be mined.  Mining is not safe.  Mining though really doesn’t pay the miners well.  So emeralds are unethical and frankly according to Beloved somewhat immoral.  Of course he bought me the emeralds, but hey who’s keeping score? 😉

Pearls, on the other hand can be farmed.  But that’s wrong too because we are forcing a poor animals to create something solely for our gain.  As far as the animal is concerned, the process is an irritating one.  Certainly not the polite or right thing to do in the grand scheme of things.

By the time we were done the discussion I frankly had no energy or desire to attend the party.  I just wanted to get comfortable and forget all about which went best with my dress.  I’m not even a fan of dressing up so there is that to!

Food For Thought

Belived came home with some freshly caught fish.  Not fish he caught, because I have a feeling he’d feel a need to set the fish free.  He doesn’t, however, have any issue with bringing home a fish someone else has caught and cleaned/dressed.  Maybe it has to do with the eyes.  Maybe the fish looks at him with those innocent doe-like eyes and he is compelled to send it back home, back to freedom.

It was a lovely fish and he had grand plans to grill it with some lemons and dill.  With brilliant sun and not a cloud in the sky he decided to fire up the outdoor grill and cook the fish out there.  This is a nice touch, when the weather cooperates because then the whole house doesn’t smell like, well, fish…cooked fish.

He managed the whole prep work outside as well.  With some assistance from the four-footed ones of course.  The minute they discovered what was in the package he brought home they were stuck to him like glue.  Well actually they followed the fish and it just so happened he was the one who moved the fish to the great outdoors.

He was a bit occupied outside with slicing lemons and chopping dill.  Bravery he had turned his back on the dogs.  And the fish.  Now the dogs love fish.  They adore fish. But they’d prefer that it’s cooked.  They just keep forgetting this tiny little detail.  It’s just a small thing really.  Except when they act on their desire for the fish.  Before it is cooked.  Then it’s a huge deal.  Like today.

They grabbed the now open package and took it out under the tree where they suddenly remembered they don’t like sushi style fish.  Not one bit.  Not even with a coating of dirt and bugs.

The thing is, we aren’t fans of dirt and bug crusted fish either.  Certainly fish that has been in the mouths of the dogs, which I know some might call extra seasoning.  So the lovely fish that was supposed to be cooked on the grill with lemons and dill was n t be.  But it’s the thought that counts right? 😊

Picnic Problems

They say when you have a picnic, the ants will find their way in case you forgot to send them invitation.  After all, no picnic is complete without all the right elements:  food, weather, company, blanket and ants.  Ants somehow make the picnic complete.

And yet knowing this, I’d just as soon not share my picnic with ants.  I know that sounds mean, rude and in fact arrogant.  And I mean really who am I to say that the ants aren’t allowed to partake of a picnic?  And I don’t really want to say no to ants at all picnics, just that I’d prefer to not have them at mine.  I know, it’s a horrible thing to say…but it’s the truth.

So when I was invited to a picnic, my first thought was how to ensure the ants wait their turn, like until I’m gone.  It’s not as if you can ask the host “So have you figured out how to relocate the ants?”  Well okay so technically you can ask that question, even provide some suggestions on how to get ride of the ants.  But it’s not really appropriate.  Besides, some people need ants at their picnics.

Now thankfully it turns out that this picnic I was invited to happens to be indoor and no sitting on the ground.  So for me the ant deal is not really an issue at this picnic.  But there will be other ones and right now the best answer I’ve managed to find for the ants to still have a picnic and not cause a major issue on my part is to out a little picnic out just for them.  A little distance between mine and theirs, but still somewhere near by each other.  Hey it’s the little this!