Dessert Malfunction

Dear Hungry Colleagues;

I signed up to bring a homemade cherry-chocolate cheesecake to share my culinary skills with you. I so rarely bake anymore--much to the chagrin of my husband who misses hot meals.

I shopped right after school, though tired. I bought cream cheese. I bought cherries and all the other delights that meld into a delectable dessert. Emily came home after school and at once noticed Mom was up to something. Without saying a word she scooted a chair to my side, and just as silently, I handed her the spoon with just enough batter to eat. She is the one who doesn't like cream cheese, but it hid, mixed in with a chocolate brownie mix.

The time ran short, and I needed to rush off to a Wednesday night writing class. My husband graciously offered to take the cheesecake out of the oven at the bell of the timer. Ten minutes. That's all it needed to be perfect.

45 minutes later when he had that "Oh Crap" moment, he did take it out of the oven.

It is the first time in eleven years of marriage he has apologized so profusely, and I'm hoping I can milk this for an evening out to dinner.

Thank you for giving me the opportunity to serve you and to have a dessert malfunction.


Tracy Catlin

P.S. Please enjoy Wal-Mart's cheesecake instead.


Smack Attack in a Baby Blue Cadillac

Last week, I was bitten, chewed up and spit on by a very powerful virile bug. It laid me out cold on the couch for a day and a half. The two days after that, I trudged through work, ate saltine crackers all day long and then back on the couch for the rest of the evening. Unfortunately, this was also the week of my writing class in which I decided to enroll, and the first night was also my first day back to work. That coupled with I had a very perky tablemate made for a very long day.

Considering that I was very ill--so sick that I had to leave at lunchtime as soon as I knew a substitute was secured--that I thought what I saw in my rear-view mirror while driving was a hallucination and I had better pull over and call a cab. I looked again, this time drinking in the view like watching a soap. We were stopped at Kellogg and Rock Rd., moving forward two inches every ten minutes.

The girl had grabbed the driver's male bald head, pulling him down towards her shoulder and then letting go only to smack him where her hand had been on his head. His long basketball arms waved her away, not so much fighting back as he was trying to ward from another smackdown in the middle of traffic. His car was also inching closer to the back of mine and I prayed for my two inches to come quickly.

She pulled at him again, this time, grabbing his ear. His mouth rounded into a yawping O, and I heard the silent yell from the young man who this time did more than just wave her away, but then put the smacks on her. They were like ducks diving into a pond.

One bent over.
Bobs up
The other bends over.
Bobs up

Wonder what they were so ticked about.

I moved up another two inches and I moved over into a turn lane, hoping that the blue caddy people were continuing straight. I felt more comfortable with them running into a semi than fighting their way into me.

No such luck.

The young man received a small reprieve as he turned around the corner, but that's all she gave him. She reached around his head and grabbed the other ear, pulled him down, then with her other hand, hit him across the head before letting go. Ruthless, cold and fast!

I lost them (or they lost me?) shortly thereafter.


Got Goth, Will Travel

The American Heritage Dictionary: Goth. abbr. Gothic. Of or relating to the Goths or their language. Of or relating to a style of fiction that emphasizes the grotesque, mysterious and desolate. Barbarous; crude. adj.

This is the "Goth" look for me. Swell, isn't it? Although no ACTUAL Goth would even dream of using the word "swell." I had a BLAST dressing "up" and would do it again in a heartbeat. I actually had a happy, joyous day, so I think I need my doctor to write this into my plan of action for a happyjoyous life. :)

Oh. And I doubt if any self-serving or self-deserving (??) Goth would probably use smilies.

Peace out.


Scented Markers Contribute to Huffing?

I recently bought Emily a brand new set of skinny markers. Every color she can imagine is in there and some there she never knew existed before were there waiting for her to create her magnificent stick figures. With hair. And long arms that wouldn't be possible unless you were from the planet Zork.

As part of this spankin' new set of markers came five that were all black with deeper, darker colors on the caps. These were Silly Scented Markers--a bonus. Before I even bought the package I imagined our daughter as one of those creepy people who has been huffing for half her life.

The Wal-Mart lady bid me a good day, and it was--as soon as I took those markers out and threw them away.

Whew. Another future medical and learning emergency diverted.