A post in which I bake a cake, and go to the bear dinner

I woke up feeling like crap this morning (thank you Epstein Barr) at about 5am. I crawled to the sofa and lay there for a while before getting motivated to make some brekkie. I had picked up lovely 5-grain bread from Publix the other day. I toasted some of that and made myself a little omelet to go with. I had thought I might run over to the flea market this morning, but I decided I would have to go tomorrow.

I did text with new Billy a bit today. He told me that he’s feeling better, and that he was hoping to keep his lunch down today. Not a ringing endorsement of health, but hopefully I’ll get to meet him tomorrow.

I lay there like a slug and watched telly for a while before dropping off for a nap that ended up being several hours long.

I woke up still feeling crappy, but I made myself start stirring about. I had shit to do today. I cleaned up the kitchen and ran to the store for the last of the cake things I needed, as well as running a few errands while I was out. I came home, ate the rest of my fish and chips for lunch, and then got Helen’s cake in the oven. I cleaned up the kitchen and sat down for a few minutes before it came out. The cake turned out pretty well. It wasn’t all lop-sided like the last chocolate pound cake I made.

While the cake cooled, I straightened up the house a bit and got cleaned up for tonight. When I got out of the shower, I wrapped the little gag gift I had gotten for Helen, glazed the cake, and called Miss Kat about delivering it. I am mad at this cake. The glaze needed another tablespoon of butter, which I could clearly see; but ignoring my instincts, I followed the recipe. As a result the glaze was gloppy and unappetizing looking - another Shrek cake. The first one of these I glazed (after not making one for about 15 years, I might add) turned out so pretty I made a picture of it. It looked like something out of a magazine. Every one I have made since then has looked like homemade mud. I don’t get it. But the glaze tasted good, and if the whole thing tastes as good as the inside of the car smelled after I got it over there, it will be a good one. Even if it does have a face that only a mother could love.

They were going out to dinner, but fortunately I had time to run the cake over there and visit for a bit before they left. Unfortunately Helen was asleep, so I won’t get to see her open the gag. Here’s the deal. I bake Helen a cake every year for Christmas (this year’s is woefully late). Last year when I brought it to her, she said “Next year, you’re going to have to bring me a cake and a new pair of pants.” I had intended to give her a pair of those super-huge panties they sell at the Anderson Jockey Lot, but for some reason the panty man stopped coming. So I ended up getting her a teeny-tiny, see-through lavender lace thong for her ‘new pants’. I was so looking forward to her reaction, but I guess that’s selfish reason to give a gift isn’t it?

They needed to leave for dinner though, and so did I. We were supposed to eat at a new place called Harry and Jean’s. I’d been curious about it, and was looking forward to going there, but apparently they took reservations over the phone, then told the bears when they started to arrive that they don’t take reservations. Aggravating.

After a bit of kerfuffle, it was decided that we would go to Capri’s on Woodruff instead, which frankly suited me just fine. The food was as delicious as always, and the service was great. I can always eat their baked spaghetti. It was a good dinner. There ended up being about 24 of us, and my blog fan, Brian (who of course has an independent life outside of being my fan, but since I am an egomaniac this means nothing to me) came, and proved just as charming in person as he is via email. Some folks make the transition better than others, you know. Anyway, everyone liked him, the conversation flowed freely, and Russ, Billy, Brian, Vince, and I all ended up basically staying at Capri’s until they kicked us (nicely) into the street.

Russ was too tired to have anyone over by that time (and truthfully, I was too tired to go, although I would have anyway), so we all went our separate ways. Dana and I had made plans to go to the flea market tomorrow anyway, and Russ decided to join us on our expedition to the Dirt Mall (which refers specifically to the Anderson Jockey Lot, in Brian-ese). I’m afraid I may have packed my day too full for tomorrow, but honestly, I’m not expecting Billy to be up to lunch from what he told me today. If he is, it’s gonna be a long day.