To Bake Or Not To Bake

There really isn't a question there. At least, not for me. If given the opportunity to bake-- I will do it. In a heartbeat. Without hesitation. Aside from teaching the Muttley Crew new tricks, and cuddling with Nearly Husband, it is my absolute favorite thing to do in the whole wide world.

This is probably why I get asked to bake things quite frequently. Sometimes it's requests from family, or a favor for a friend, and occasionally I even get paid to make things. Really, baking makes me happy. That kind of deep down, warm-all-over, utterly contented kind of happy. I don't even eat most of the things I bake (I am, regretfully, a ridiculously picky eater), but seeing others enjoy what I've made is enough.

Now, Grandpa John is in the habit of getting cinnamon rolls from the Senior Center every week. To be perfectly honest, it's not just a habit anymore, it's become a part of The Routine. May God help you if you are responsible for putting a wrench in Grandpa John's Routine. (It's so serious it even comes with it's own capital R.) With his complete devotion to The Routine, he becomes quite agitated when he can't get cinnamon rolls. And we have just begun a three week stint of no cinnamon rolls. In fact, these next couple of months play utter havoc with The Routine in general. Post Office closing randomly in the middle of the week (okay, so it isn't random, it just feels that way), companies holding funny holiday hours, the golf course (where he used to play golf, but now just sits in the clubhouse with the other Town Elders playing cribbage and pitch) closes-- MY GOD! Not the golf course! But, yes. Sadly, even the golf course is susceptible to the Thanksgiving-New Years disturbance.

The point is the cinnamon rolls. When he can't get the Senior Center cinnamon rolls, mine will have to do. They aren't a part of The Routine, but a cinnamon roll is a cinnamon roll in hard times. Any roll in a storm, or something. I guess you can't always afford to be picky. Luckily there are people who LOVE the rolls I make, and who don't treat my beautiful, handcrafted rolls like second best. Yesterday, for Grandpa John, I made a pan of cinnamon rolls. But, for other people who love me and those delightful cinnamon rolls, I made a further five pans. People, you're welcome. (And you're all doubly welcome for not having to suffer Grandpa John's wrath when he has to start his morning by deviating from The Routine!) They turned out, I believe, pretty good. I tried one. It was satisfactorily mouth-watering. I might even go so far as to call it "Yummy" or "Scrumptious" but since I'M the one who made them, that might be pushing it a bit far. (But they were!)



















Today I took Mom out to see Miss Belle (she was looking lovely, as always), and we bought her some apple-and-oat treats, because, I mean, c'mon. Who doesn't love spoiling an adorable, sweet, lovey equine?

And then... I made an experimental cake. It's ingredients included cake flour, baking powder, salt, sugar, eggs, vanilla, and heavy cream. I was, I must admit, intrigued. No milk? No water? No oil? or butter? or sour cream? Not even cream cheese? Are you sure? So, in order to find out what this bizarre conglomeration is like--I made it. It's presently cooling on a wire rack.




I know what you're going to say. Bug, it doesn't look suspicious.




Don't be fooled! This cake doesn't have any liquid ingredients other than a couple of eggs and heavy cream. HEAVY CREAM, people! I will dust it with some powdered sugar, and whip up (haha) some homemade whipped cream... and we'll see. We'll. Just. See. About. THIS.


And then this happened and it made the whole day completely perfect:






Now... on to that suspect cake!

The Weekend of WHOOSH

First thing's first. My dress fits! Even with this dratted water retention (which I'm sure a Dr. Pepper--or three--a day doesn't help with), it fits, it fits, it fits! And, of all miraculous things, the shoes I picked match the sash very nearly perfectly. I know, right? Shockingly good luck! I probably shouldn't say much more than that, as I'm afraid my Nearly Husband might get bored looking at mountain biking websites and decide to see what it is I'm doing here on this "Blog Thing." I would love to post you a picture. But I mustn't!

While in the Big City, Mom and I saw our Aunt Felicia and her husband, Cal, and their two wonderful Doodles, Sammy and Roxxy. Luckily we get to see them (and the rest of their wonderful clan) again around Thanksgiving! We had a very nice visit as we heard tales of the National Quilting Convention and their trip down the West coast. It makes me so happy to see people I love doing well, and enjoying their lives and loved ones!

We also test drove a few vehicles, as I am in desperate need of wheels (I haven't had a car since I went away to Scotland in 2005) and my mom is hoping to consolidate down to one car. Now, Bug, you might ask me, why don't you just take your Mom's excess vehicle? Well, let me tell you. She bought her second car by selling my car when I left, but I don't want her '02 Tahoe, or her '05 VW Beetle. I want something that's MINE. Just mine. Something that I can comfortably drive around the U.S. in, showing Nearly Husband all the wonders of his new home.

Oh, that reminds me. Nearly Husband isn't American. He's Scottish. In fact, he's still living in Scotland. We're going through the process of getting him a K-1 Fiance Visa so that he can relocate here to Kansas with me, and we can be married and live happily ever after. One of the things I want to do after he's here, but before he's allowed to work, is introduce him to this land I call home. The U.S. of A., with all its amazing sights, and interesting history-- though I think he wants to start by looking at Carhenge. Oh, and I think he said the Grand Canyon too. He threw it in at the end of the sentence like, "OH! Can we go see that place where they're put cars on their noses to look like Stonehenge? I'd really like to see that, cause you know how I love old cars. And, maybe the Grand Canyon too?" That's reason #14 that I love that boy/man-- his complete enthusiasm about silly things. In fact, that probably explains why he loves ME so much, because I am nothing if not a very silly thing.

Sorry about that non-sequitur, I feel full of words and news and nothing is being particular about what order they want to gush out of my head! We got home tremendously late on Saturday night, and I tidied while Mom made an egg souffle for Sunday breakfast. We had company Sunday morning, our cousins Penny, her daughter Jen, and Jen's daughter and son, Morgann and Gavin. I don't think I've had the chance to see Jen since 2000, and I'd never met her kids before. They were so cute, and Morgann just oohed and aahed at the dresses in my closet. She wanted to know if my hometown, let's for the sake of privacy call it J-City, throws a lot of balls. "This," she said, "is the perfect dress for a ball." When she hits 16, I'm definitely sending her that dress.

Sunday night we trekked across the alleyway to Nannie and Grandpa John's house for homemade pizza. This is usually our Saturday night tradition. We used to play cards, but now that the elders are getting elder-er we mostly watch COPS. There's probably less cheating on COPS than there was at the card table anyway!

Today I started "Little Bug's March Toward Household Organization" with the Dog Shelf. This is, to be precise, a seven or eight foot long shelf that holds dog miscellany. Rawhide bones, flavored rawhide bones, rawhide curls, half-chewed bones, hooves, ears, puppy chews, dental sticks, treats of every size, shape and flavor, duck strips, chicken strips, venison jerky, dietary supplements, shampoo, conditioner, special non-shedding shampoo and conditioner, white dog shampoo and conditioner, ear cleansing solution, ear drying solution, ear wipes, eye wipes, pills to make the grass stay green, pills to help joints, pills to help incontinence (my 11-year-old German Shepherd died last May and it got hard for her at the end), soft toys, toys to fetch, toys to pull, parts of old toys, nail trimmers, nail grinders, nail files, an electric razor, and eleventy-seven different kinds of brushes. Oh, and also three years worth of dust. AH-CHOO! I should've taken a picture of it before, but I have the suspicion Mom might read this and she'd beat me to death with a rawhide if I showed anyone. It now looks so very tidy.

I give it one month before it needs done again. But, really, what's the fun of organizing if you only have to do it once?
And, I'll leave you with something to think about.

Now, how thankful are you that you didn't have to give this dog a bath? Because I didn't, and I'm EXTREMELY thankful for it!