Cake at the Lake

Another Costco Cake - it was supposed to say Birthdays

I had hoped to avoid eating so much birthday cake this year. However, with three July birthdays in our book club, I thought I would bring a cake to the lake for this year's golf outing, book discussion and cottage cookout. I planned dinner for 16 and served 15. People seemed to enjoy the cake but we also had brownies and ice cream available and people were either too full or too careful to indulge in large servings, so I was left with way too much cake to take home. It was cut up and put into individual serving containers in the freezer, but they were really easy to thaw and kept calling to me.

Like the flawed Florentino in my book club selection, Love in the Time of Cholera (who claimed to have kept himself a virgin while "courting" 622 women in his lifetime before he finally is united with his true love Fermina Daza late in life), in my heart I am anti-sugar and anti-carb, while along the way I have failed at least a thousand times. Today my daughter and son-in-law helped me finish the last piece. Next month, they both have birthdays. Will this mean another cake?

Not only did I "take the cake"--I failed to "walk the walk."

Two Women and a Truck

Today my friend and I spent a good chunk of the day in a truck. It was warm and we were in my uncle's red pickup with windows open and hair blowing.

After packing our load in the morning, including my friend's massive vine that she pulled off her pergola, we stopped at the drive-thru of a Tim Horton's, inquiring about the free coffee deal. It was 12:04 on my clock and although the offer ended at 12:00 noon, we sweet-talked our way to some coffee with cream, also purchasing some yummy apple fritters. The employee at the window was nice and even said, "You ladies have a nice day."

Ha! Ladies? I hardly felt like a lady. As we bumped along the road to the yard waste site with our load of brush, our hot coffees spilled a little. I had my work capris on, now newly stained with creamy coffee; I had my faded work hat crammed down over my pony tail; my dirty work gloves were on the seat between us.

It occurred to me that feeling like a lady at all was a ludicrous notion. Sometimes I see perfectly-coiffed white-haired grandmas with lips painted red, driving around in their older classic cars, looking very much like ladies. But will that ever be me? Do I ever even want to be called a lady? I imagine a day when I can no longer mow the lawn or mount the seat of a truck. It's getting more difficult every year! Maybe I will become a lady then ... in 10 or 20 years or so? It's not so hard to be a lady if you're sitting around in a chair most of the day.

After unloading our branches, we uploaded about 15 bags of wood chips, free for the taking. And then we stopped again, for diet Cokes and McDoubles, with bottom buns removed and hamburgers flipped up, per usual.

A photo from last August - I kindly cropped her buns!

Our second goal, besides stopping for refreshments 3 times, was to shovel 500 pounds (about $40) of Suwanee rock from Minnesota into pails to spread around the liner of my aunt's waterfall pond.

It was still hot and humid as we shoveled the pebbles into small pails that we could lift easily. The five gallon pails we lifted together, on the count of three. I have a photo of my friend wiping her brow as we loaded up the last few containers. She actually looks pretty good in her basic black. But it's a good thing you can't see her hot red face, or the coffee spills--definitely not lady-like!

We almost depleted the supply of stones--more stones are on order from MN.

After all this work (and still needing energy for the unloading), we once again rewarded ourselves--with a small chocolate dipped cone from the Dairy Queen drive-thru, chocolate chunks sliding off onto my dirty clothes.

On the way home I also indulged myself with a few purchases from my neighborhood gay guy's garage sale that I had passed up earlier. My friend bought those multi-colored plant watering globes. I bought 3 coffee mugs (against all my rules once again) which I couldn't resist for $.50 each and a pewter tray for my daughter.

After a long soak in a hot tub, scrubbing my toes and nails clean, applying some fragranced body lotion, and tossing all my dirty clothes into the washer--I felt more like a lady again--or at least, a woman.

As long as there is plenty of soap and hot water available, I clean up pretty well. I am guessing that having to wash up using a bowl and pitcher on my bureau would prove inadequate. And if I had to wear corsets and frocks every day--with no air-conditioning--even if I were rich, lived in a mansion and had a whole house full of servants--I wouldn't trade this dirty/clean, un-lady-like life I enjoy! I hope my friend continues to feel the same way, because we always have fun adventures together!!

I will probably never be a lady. But ... I am woman, hear me roar...or is that just my bad muffler?

The Twinkies Comeback

The sweetest comeback in the history of ever?

THE HISTORY OF NEVER
I have been thinking about avoiding falling as I get older and more clumsy. And I am trying to learn to be more careful. But I recently said out loud that I haven't fallen in a long time. So I fell--twice. Once I tripped on the wheel of the wheelbarrow while carrying some rocks. I sprawled out on the (soft, recently watered) lawn, rocks and glasses flying in different directions. This week I was hauling water in the rain and slipped on a muddy downhill patch, sliding on my khaki capris, my water jug flying. With each fall I twanged a shoulder a little, but was not really hurt.

For at least the last 20 years I have said I have never had a Twinkie. Which means I probably will have one. So today in the store, as the sweet comeback of Twinkies took center stage, I bought a box--on sale--and ate a Twinkie. Thought I might as well get it over with, since it was bound to happen anyway!

They are not terrible, just terribly sweet. Somebody better come over and help me eat some, though. They are good until August 22, advertised to have an extended shelf life of 45 days now.

But I feel just a little bit terrible for having broken my pattern of Twinkie avoidance.

I also bought a red pepper. Is this not the most beautiful, healthy thing you can imagine eating? But I chose to eat the Twinkie, while the pepper is still looking gorgeous on my counter.

Why does it never, in the history of ever, sound good to have a pepper with my coffee or tea?

Stuck "Under the Dome"

After recently finishing Stephen King's autobiographical work, On Writing, completed after the accident that nearly took his life, I was intrigued to try one or two of his novels. I haven't ventured into that realm yet, but the husband had taped the much-hyped Under the Dome, which is a 13-part mini-series based on King's 2009 novel of the same name. So we watched it.

While watching the first episode on the first of July, as the dome descends (?) on the town and splits a cow in half lengthwise (not really looking like the inside of a cow, but plenty graphically bloody--more like freshly ground hamburger) I was hooked. It turns out that nearly 17 million viewers watched with me.

After watching the second episode, I don't know whether to love it or leave it--or King. I recently re-watched a bit of Carrie and felt the same way. Why do I need to watch this stuff?

 I grew up with Little Women and Little House on the Prairie and no television at home until I was 17! Then we could watch Lassie and What's My Line--at least on Sundays--and it was a big step when my father graduated to Gunsmoke.

 I grew up with the (previously documented) violence of seeing a dying sow's throat slit, a warm pigeon gutted, and a pet pig taken to market for slaughter, but not the scary violence of science fiction, or vampire, terrorist or axe-murderer-type movies. I now am tentatively game for such things.

Strangely, I am looking forward to the third episode of Under the Dome on Monday night. We might tape it, but I will watch. Will you?

Seeking Solitude at the Lake

6 AM at Lake Michigan

I didn't really mean to stay up all night to see the dawn (and I might have dozed off for a few minutes), but last weekend I enjoyed a little more solitude than I had hoped for. (I did fall back asleep shortly after this 6 AM photo was taken).

So even though it was a holiday weekend, it turns out it was very quiet at night, except for crickets and birds. The Energizer Bunny surfer boys, down below--finally exhausted--were fast asleep.

Is it my camera or is it brighter a minute later?

The sunset the night before was a pretty good one, with lots of cloud patterns:

On Friday afternoon, as soon as we crested the dune, caught the first sight of Lake Michigan and inhaled the first whiff of the cool lake breeze, the stress began to roll down our backs and over the sand--disappearing into the lapping waves. Later, one sip of merlot and yes, we were mellow.

But by Sunday afternoon, having to clean up our mess, scrub the toilets, and pack up our leftover food and dirty laundry in the midday heat--the stress was back (and in my back). The last item to pack up--a large trash bag which held the remaining weekend detritus--developed a small leak, lightly spilling black coffee grounds down the deck stairs. All my work to clean up, and yet, I left a dirty little (if organic) trail in my wake. So annoying. I hoped it would rain clean or blow away in those awesome lake breezes soon. The brooms and hoses were all locked up and it was time to go.