Pictures, good updates, bad updates, bitching. You get it all in here.
Oh lawdy! But it has been a long couple of weeks.
Before I say anything else, I must wish The Madre a very happy birthday. She's 23. Again! How does she do it?
Now for some bad news. Let's tackle that first, shall we? Always good to get that out of the way. My grandmother - Good Grandma - has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Go big or go home, Good Grandma. For those unfamiliar with this most excellent diagnosis, the prognosis is nearly 100% extremely bad. Meaning that fewer than 2% are alive five years after being diagnose, and that the average life expectancy is somewhere between 3 and 6 months.
Pretty fan-freaking-tastic. One of my favourite people in the world is going to die in a few months, and there's nothing anyone can do about it. Not even me. ME! The Maven.
So, I've decided to make the best of our time together. She loves sweets. Love them more than I do, even, and that says something. I am going to bake her the sweetest, butteriest, tastiest, most-calories-from-fat-EVER. Every week I'm going to make her something new. If there's one great thing about dying, it's the lack of guilt over daily activities, such as indulging in deliciously bad foods. I shall live vicariously through my GG.
Well, maybe not entirely vicariously. A girl has to sample her goods, you know.
In other, better news, I am finally done my essays for school. The last one involved - check out the irony on this one - writing about the book The Stone Angel, which is about an elderly woman dying of cancer. Great book. Awful timing. One depressing novel that is far too close to reality for my own comfort with a side of cry my eyes out, please.
Also, the Spawn's birthday was great. I shall post some pictures:
When The Maven posts pictures, she posts pictures. I stopped myself at eleven of them. I'm attempting to tackle the steep you-are-not-as-interesting-as-you-think-you-are mountain. It's a challenge.
However, forgetting for a second that I am not the center of the universe, I must point out my cake decorating skills. Sure, it took me 3 1/2 hours to do both. Sure, I was up until 1:30AM, wired on coffee and giggling like a mad woman at how sore my hands were from pumping out the icing. Sure, I had to point out to absolutely everyone that they were the first cakes I had ever decorated and proudly accepted any and all compliments. But hey, losing one's cake decorating virginity is difficult and it needs to be celebrated. It's even blog-worthy, I tell you. I shall be procuring my very own decorating tools for future endeavors.
Speaking of which, I was thrilled with myself for renting the lion cakepan at $1.99. What a steal! It was originally $15 and I got it for $2 and a $20 deposit. I was feeling rather proud of myself on the day of the party, until my friend gently pointed out that it was $1.99/day.
Let's do some math:
$2/day x 11 days = $22.
1 cake pan purchased for life = $15
Cake pan: 1.
Maven: 0
I'm keeping the damn cake pan and they can keep my damn $22. And everyone is getting a damn lion cake for every damn festivity for at least the next 10 damn years. Seriously. I'm going to put bunny ears on it for Easter and make a green and red mane for Christmas and draw damn hearts for eyes for Valentines Day. I'm going to get my money's worth, I tell you.
I should learn to read the damn rental agreements more carefully. Stupid Maven.
Also, I've managed to make about two meetings in about five weeks. Recovering alcoholics without their 12 step meetings is not a good scene. I'm surprisingly calm, though, unless someone brings up the damn cake pan.
I could keep writing. I have so much more to say. Instead, I'm going to go to bed. It's nearly 1AM and I've made three meals, unleashed two gremlins in a museum, picked up another gremlin from school and corralled them all into the grocery store, went on a power walk with a friend of mine, her baby and my newbie toddler spawn, cleaned most of my house and, finally, blogged.
I'm so awesome that it must be painful to others just to be around me.
Maybe I should make a damn lion cake to celebrate that fact.
Before I say anything else, I must wish The Madre a very happy birthday. She's 23. Again! How does she do it?
Now for some bad news. Let's tackle that first, shall we? Always good to get that out of the way. My grandmother - Good Grandma - has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Go big or go home, Good Grandma. For those unfamiliar with this most excellent diagnosis, the prognosis is nearly 100% extremely bad. Meaning that fewer than 2% are alive five years after being diagnose, and that the average life expectancy is somewhere between 3 and 6 months.
Pretty fan-freaking-tastic. One of my favourite people in the world is going to die in a few months, and there's nothing anyone can do about it. Not even me. ME! The Maven.
So, I've decided to make the best of our time together. She loves sweets. Love them more than I do, even, and that says something. I am going to bake her the sweetest, butteriest, tastiest, most-calories-from-fat-EVER. Every week I'm going to make her something new. If there's one great thing about dying, it's the lack of guilt over daily activities, such as indulging in deliciously bad foods. I shall live vicariously through my GG.
Well, maybe not entirely vicariously. A girl has to sample her goods, you know.
In other, better news, I am finally done my essays for school. The last one involved - check out the irony on this one - writing about the book The Stone Angel, which is about an elderly woman dying of cancer. Great book. Awful timing. One depressing novel that is far too close to reality for my own comfort with a side of cry my eyes out, please.
Also, the Spawn's birthday was great. I shall post some pictures:
When The Maven posts pictures, she posts pictures. I stopped myself at eleven of them. I'm attempting to tackle the steep you-are-not-as-interesting-as-you-think-you-are mountain. It's a challenge.
However, forgetting for a second that I am not the center of the universe, I must point out my cake decorating skills. Sure, it took me 3 1/2 hours to do both. Sure, I was up until 1:30AM, wired on coffee and giggling like a mad woman at how sore my hands were from pumping out the icing. Sure, I had to point out to absolutely everyone that they were the first cakes I had ever decorated and proudly accepted any and all compliments. But hey, losing one's cake decorating virginity is difficult and it needs to be celebrated. It's even blog-worthy, I tell you. I shall be procuring my very own decorating tools for future endeavors.
Speaking of which, I was thrilled with myself for renting the lion cakepan at $1.99. What a steal! It was originally $15 and I got it for $2 and a $20 deposit. I was feeling rather proud of myself on the day of the party, until my friend gently pointed out that it was $1.99/day.
Let's do some math:
$2/day x 11 days = $22.
1 cake pan purchased for life = $15
Cake pan: 1.
Maven: 0
I'm keeping the damn cake pan and they can keep my damn $22. And everyone is getting a damn lion cake for every damn festivity for at least the next 10 damn years. Seriously. I'm going to put bunny ears on it for Easter and make a green and red mane for Christmas and draw damn hearts for eyes for Valentines Day. I'm going to get my money's worth, I tell you.
I should learn to read the damn rental agreements more carefully. Stupid Maven.
Also, I've managed to make about two meetings in about five weeks. Recovering alcoholics without their 12 step meetings is not a good scene. I'm surprisingly calm, though, unless someone brings up the damn cake pan.
I could keep writing. I have so much more to say. Instead, I'm going to go to bed. It's nearly 1AM and I've made three meals, unleashed two gremlins in a museum, picked up another gremlin from school and corralled them all into the grocery store, went on a power walk with a friend of mine, her baby and my newbie toddler spawn, cleaned most of my house and, finally, blogged.
I'm so awesome that it must be painful to others just to be around me.
Maybe I should make a damn lion cake to celebrate that fact.