Queen of Rambles

I’ve been planning a big, long entry all day but it is not 11:39 pm and the baby is asleep on the boppy in my lap which makes typing awkward and I want to go to bed, so I don’t think you will get a big, long entry. You will just get a big, long run on sentence. Maybe you wanted a big, long something else.

Ooops!

Was that a little racy?

I was going to make the cake that Hillary posted in the comment section of the QoR blog because it is the EXACT cake that required the bundt pan that Ron and I became panhandlers to buy (I’m working hard on giving you big and long sentences), but then I remembered that it is REALLY rich and I could barely handle it when I was a teenager and now I am actually rather sensitive to sweets so I wanted something a little lighter.

Instead, I’m going to make a seven layer chocolate chiffon cake, except seven layers seems completely overkill so I will half the recipe and make a three layer chiffon cake and hope like hell it turns out. I even bought cake flour for it. I’m so fancy.

I don’t know if this whole “baking a non-bundt cake from scratch” thing is a good idea because I’ve only baked cakes from scratch in Sweden and they always fell flat. I blame it on the flour. The flour in Sweden is weird and different, though I don’t know exactly how or why. I think it is missing some ingredient that all purpose flour in America has. The sugar is also weird, but that’s because it generally comes from sugar beets instead of cane sugar. People think it’s weird that I can tell the difference, but seriously. . . who can’t? Beet sugar is rather gross.

I am almost going to be relieved when my birthday is over so I can stop obsessing over the cake. Almost. It’s fun to have visions of chocolate cakes dancing in my head. I talk about sugary goodness a lot more than I eat sugary goodness.

This entry is turning out to be longer than I thought. I guess I should have stuck with my original topic: the nursing mother’s sangria party. How’s that for a teaser? I’m not a drinker, so my milk remains untainted. Maybe I need to take up drinking. Maybe it would help Erik sleep better. What does it mean when your baby screams in middle of the night but he won’t wake up? I’ve read about night terrors, but those aren’t supposed to happen to such young babies. He is advanced for his age (says the proud mommy who doesn’t really know, but he is sitting up for long periods of time and he is humping everything he can hump [ok, so it’s not humping. He just likes to push with his legs and it just looks like humping, which is especially funny when he is laying on top of his big blue dog] and he is getting up on his hands and knees so I say he’s a genius. You can buy his musical prodigy CD in a few years, just as soon as we discover which instrument his genius applies to. Or maybe he will write a new math theory. Or maybe he’ll write a new Karma Sutra since he likes to hump [he is soooo not getting a copy of my diaries. He would kill me.]).

Bed time. Really. Bed time.

And I haven’t had a single sangria. Ever.

This entry was posted on Saturday, March 25th, 2006 at 9:54 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.