Call Me Cake Boss

As I'm known to do, I made my cousin a custom birthday cake.  She requested carrot cake with raisins.  I made her that, but I added some signature touches:

To see more of my fabulous cake skillz, you can click here and here.

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Don't Call Me Dummie

I'm linking up with Mama Kat for her writer's workshop.  

The prompt is: retell a conversation that made you laugh.

Don't Call Me Dummie

“Geez, I hope she’s alright,” I said. 

Earlier, I was talking on the sidewalk with a neighbor mom.  Her little daughter had run across the street to get to her mom.  She had tripped in the street and then gone into a seizure.  Everyone was shaken by the event, but everyone ended up being ok.  The little girl went with her mom in an ambulance to the hospital to be checked out.  After the fire department, EMT workers, and police had left, we were still talking about the event.

“Dummie?  Yeah, she runs and falls all the time,” my son said.

“What did you call her?”  I asked.

“Dummie!” My son exclaimed.

“Surely, her name is not Dummie.  Why do you think her name is Dummie?”  I asked.  I was part exasperated that my son could unknowingly be so rude, but I was also trying not to laugh.

“That’s what her brother calls her!” My son explained.  (My son usually shouts everything.)

I laughed.  “Well, that may be what her brother calls her, but I’m sure that’s not her name.”

“It is her name!  Darren calls her Dummie!” My son was getting frustrated with me, but I couldn’t stop laughing.

“Parker,” I said, “Brothers call their sister’s names.  Dummie is not a nice word for someone.  Even if that is what Darren calls her, you should not call her Dummie!”

……………………

The next day, Darren came over to play.  He explained that his sister was alright.  She would be monitored for the seizure.  It could have been a one-time occurrence, but we wouldn’t know yet.

I said, “Hey, Darren, by the way, what is your sister’s name?”

“Demi,” Darren said.

I just laughed and laughed.

“Why are you laughing?” Darren asked.

“Oh, nothing, we just thought her name was something different.”  I tried to calm my laughing.  “Demi is a pretty name.”

My son, Parker, who has the social grace of, well, a five year old, shouted, “We thought her name was Dummie!”

And we all laughed and laughed, but Darren did not. 

Cringe.

from Pinterest

And now my son is too.

About Me...

1. Wednesday, July 24th is Drive Thru day - do you have any drive thrus that you have a hard time passing?

Taco Bell is my fave!

2. Other than signing your name, when was the last time you physically wrote something?

Lists.  Many, many lists all the time.  Revised ones, typed ones, weekly vs. daily ones, grocery template lists, weekend task to-do lists.  

Lists keep my life flowing at a comfortable pace.  Or else I wouldn't know what the hell was going on. 

3. What was the first movie you saw in a movie theater? the latest one?

I think the first was E.T.  The last was Monsters University because, you know, I have a kid.

4. Have you ever visited Disney?

Many times!!  Love it!!  Can't wait to take my son there for the first time.

Now, you all need to answer this question in my comments!

Is the world going to hell in a hand basket, or is everything going to be alright?

(I am of the strong belief that everything is going to be alright.  People need to settle down with the Chicken Little attitudes.)

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You is Funny. You is Silly. You is Hilarious.

I want to get something straight around here.  There's a whole lot more love in my life than blasphemy, and I still deal with life with a wicked sense of humor.

Even during my hardest and most stressful times, my go-to strategy for feeling better is getting on Pinterest and perusing the "humor" category.

If I can squeeze out a couple of LOL's, everything's gonna be alright.

Let's see if it works for you.

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Sometimes, you just need to put that baby on the floor...

An Independent Woman

I listened to my father talk about his health, giving up trying to put a word in edge-wise.  Instead, I sat silently, chewing the skin off my left thumb.  Having a “conversation” with my father was hard work, emotionally.  I stepped outside of myself and noticed the gnawing anxiety growing in the middle of my body.  I noticed my stomach churning, and my impatience growing.  When I was able to ask a question, I asked something I knew would pique his interest.

“So, did you have lunch with Aunt Sandy recently?”  I asked.

“Yes, oh, yes!”  he said, surprised I knew about it.

“I saw it on Facebook,”  I explained.

My dad has not joined the Facebook world.  So, mentions of Facebook are amusing to him.  I believe my father does not join Facebook or engage in much of the world around him because it does not revolve around him and his issues and his health and his feelings and his ideas and his needs. 

My dad continued on, “…It was so funny when I saw my sister and cousins – they were talking about you!”

“Oh yeah?”  I asked.

My dad said, “They were talking about how upset they were that you were taking a break from…what is it….your blog?  They were so relieved to know that it is just a break and that you will continue it sometime.  Is that right?”

“Yes,” I said, laughing, always flattered by hearing that others follow my blog and care to read what I write.  I haven’t even seen this aunt or cousins for many years.

My father has never shown interest in reading my blog.  In fact, the second time I asked him about checking it out, I believe he said, “Oh, no, I have no interest in that kind of thing.” 

At that moment, my son started shouting in the background.  I tended to his needs, talking to my son while my dad waited on the phone. 

“I’m sorry,” I said to my dad for the interruption. 

“Oh, that’s ok,” my dad said.  “I always remember your brother shouting whenever I got on the phone!  There’s just something about being on the phone.  They suddenly need you then!”

“Yes,” I said, chuckling along while trying to wipe up the spill my son had caused. 

My dad went on, “You, though, you were always so self-sufficient.  So self-entertained.  You were a good girl.  Well, not that your brother wasn’t…anyways, you know what I mean.”

“Yes, I know,” I said. 

We wrapped up our conversation. 

Self-sufficient.  I am used to making myself this way.  It is a way of life.  Until you start to feel a little lonely.  Then, self-sufficient kind of sucks.  But, it appears that the men in my life need me to be self-sufficient.  So that I do not mind what it is that they need to do.  I am just now beginning to realize this.  What this means for the men in my life, I don’t know.  I am only starting to be concerned for what it means to me.    

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I Like You So Much, You Get Chicken Poop Cake

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We've been partying like animals over here.  My boyfriend's birthday has come and gone.  Just like I like it, there was lots of absurd hilarity.

One of my favorite absurdly hilarious things was the cake I made.  I am a really good cook.

When my birthday came around, my boyfriend made me a delicious and beautiful cake.  It was a raspberry cake filling with a light pistachio icing.  He even made the cake topper from clay and topped that with a butterfly.  You see:

Now you all know my age.  It is what it is.

For his birthday, my boyfriend asked for a peanut butter cake.  Well, alright.  I made a peanut butter cake (with home-made peanut butter) with a peanut chocolate frosting (with home-made confectioner's sugar!).  But, I didn't stop there.  The cake topper I chose was a stately and beautiful chicken.  It's what tied it all together.

My chicken poop cake:

It was really delicious.  

(Shhh!  Don't tell anyone.  The cake was even more blasphemous because I used a Paula Deen recipe.  From now on, I know she has a really fabulous chicken poop cake recipe.)

I am Mine

I am alone in a living room filled with toys.

Shoes on,

With nowhere I want to go,

Only wondering where I went.

You used to think I was so interesting.

You used to think,

So captivating.

Here I am,

Wanting your approval,

Your desire.

I am in a living room full of toys

With my shoes on,

Wondering where you went.

I am alone in my thoughts,

On what I am and who I can be.

I push past any moment that was defined by

Others.

I’m left with an ocean that goes beyond eternity, and it is mine alone.

The seas are rough,

But I call them home.

My heart has weathered more beyond your

Callous skin

And careless time.

I am here,

And I am mine.

Patrick Palmer

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Brothers from Other Mothers

One day, my little boy discovered that there was another little boy on the other side of the backyard fence.

They would look at each other and giggle and talk, but they were too young for climbing fences, walking around the block, or going over to someone's house alone.

I wrote about the cute-ness of it all on my previous blog, Pampers and Pinot.

Now, nearly two years after that post, there is a gate in the fence that separates our yards.  They can play to their hearts' content, and boy, do they play.  They are "best friends."  They say they wish they were brothers.

We went from this kind of experience:

 

To this!

It helps to have a handy boyfriend around!

That's my Parker boy.  His friend was not in the picture, but he was there, running through our sprinklers.

You’re Allowed to Feel Good

I'm linking up this week at Write on Edge for their Write at the Merge prompt:

I chose to write fiction with my Kate and Dr. Chase characters. 

You're Allowed to Feel Good

“No, keep going.  It’s nice to hear about the good times,” said Dr. Chase.

Kate smiled a little.  “Ok.  Well, we weren’t supposed to be there.  The lake was on private property, but Marisa and I would be up after work.  We’d sit by the edge of the lake and smoke and talk.  We hadn’t ever had any issues or seen anyone around the place.” 

Kate blushed a little before continuing.  “A couple times we had gone, um, skinny dipping, when it had been really hot out.  It just feels so good, you know?”

Dr. Chase smiled, “Yes, I know.”

Kate continued, “We weren’t too scared.  So we went ahead for a swim this one night, and while we were in the water, we saw flash lights approaching!”

“Oh, no!”  Dr. Chase was happy to see her patient lighten up a little.  Kate’s shoulders had lifted, and her face became brighter with animation.

“Yeah!  Then we heard someone asking, ‘Who’s down there?’  Thank goodness our clothes were right at the shore.  We were so quick.  We didn’t even say a thing to each other!  We just both knew that we were going to run and get the hell outta there.”  Kate laughed.

“Did you get away?  Did they see you?”  Dr. Chase asked.

“No, I mean, yes, we got away!  They didn’t see us.  Well, I don’t think,” she said with a chuckle.  “We splashed out of the water, grabbed our clothes and took off toward the tree line away from them.  Do you know how hard it is to get your clothes on quickly when you’re wet?  Oh, man.  We pulled them on though and got to our car and sped off.”

They spent a moment in silence while Kate was still smiling at the thought.  Gradually, Kate’s face began to change.  Tears came to her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away. 

“I like hearing about some of the fun you guys had,” said Dr. Chase.

Kate sniffed and looked away.  Dr. Chase felt Kate pulling away and shutting down. 

“You know, you’re allowed to remember the good times and let it feel good,” Dr. Chase said softly. 

Kate said nothing.  She looked out the window.

“What are you feeling?” Dr. Chase asked.

Kate shifted in her seat.  “I don’t feel anything,” Kate said.

“You look like you feel something,” said Dr. Chase.

Kate’s foot began to bounce. 

Dr. Chase continued, “Can we just try-“

“No!” Kate interrupted.  “We’re not going to try anything.  We’re not going to talk about ‘how I feel and why’ because there’s no use!  When it comes down to it, I feel like shit and it’s all my fault.  Simple as that,” Kate said, looking the doctor straight in the eye.  “I’m fucking stuck in here, getting nowhere, but you know what?  I may as well be.  I may as well be stuck in hell for the shit I’ve put people through.  What makes you so lucky, Dr. Chase?  Why do you get to listen to my bitching and moaning?” 

Kate stood up.  “Never mind,” Kate said as she stood up.  She opened the office door.  “God dammit, this is a waste of time.”

Write on Edge

I Live to Blog Again

I am ready again to blog and write.  Life got in the way in a major way last year.  Overwhelmed with personal stress, I had to end my previous blog, Pampers and Pinot.  It had run its course anyway.  It was a great blog, and like Oprah, I had to leave while people still liked me.  You see, my head is still big enough to compare myself to Oprah and assume that I am liked by the masses.

I don’t aim to make everyone like me anymore.  I am simply myself and that is enough. 

My life went through a complete overhaul – the biggest being that I went through a divorce.  There were many health problems to get through (all is well now).  I had to focus on my son and his adjustment to all of these stressors. 

What hasn’t changed about me?  My sharp wit and tongue are always at the ready.  Laughing is an extremely important activity!  People may hold their breath when I begin to speak, but there is no need to worry.  My heart is big enough to make me cry every time I watch Brave.  I try to approach people with understanding and love.  My devious humor is just for fun. 

I am a very creative spirit.  Blogging keeps me writing.  Writing keeps me feeling good. 

The world is full of love – in so many forms.  The world is full of blasphemy – of all types.  I plan to write about both.  No holds barred.

I’m back.