Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Sprinkles Make Everything Better
Yesterday, someone said "confetti," and it made me think of confetti cake. And then I started thinking about nothing but confetti cake. I started rationalizing that I could turn my craving into a sweet for Mr. F. I would make him a confetti cake. (Here's the first clue that things aren't right: selfish motivation for a "kindness" to someone else.)
I even found this really great recipe, but we didn't have sprinkles. So, I'd just hop into the grocery when I was done with my imperative errands. I'd make one of those cute pendant banners declaring Mr. F's awesomeness, and he'd love it and whisk me into his arms, and I wouldn't feel pukey, and we'd laugh and kiss...
Back to reality. My errands took longer than expected, so my window of not feeling icky was shrinking. I went to the grocer anyway, but by the time I got there, I was overwhelmed with nausea. I don't vomit. I just sit there in the car dry heaving. And then I get all hot, and that makes it worse. I eat some watermelon I have in my purse and drive home. No sprinkles.
At home, I take a nap and think about what a great idea confetti cake is. Everything takes longer these days. And I'm a slow-mover to begin with. By the time Mr. F. gets home, I'm braiding some thread to have a multi-colored string for my pendant banner. Thankfully, he's engrossed in conversation with someone on the tele.
I scurry to put my pendant together and sprinkle the cake. Wait. I never got sprinkles??? What is wrong with my brain!? So, I stick the chop sticks holding my banner into the plain ol' cake, and-- VOILA!
Maybe it's because of the jacked-up pendant, or the lack of confetti-ness about the cake, or the fact that my hubby likes chocolate--not vanilla, or that I get more sick with sweets--for whatever reason, the cake is still sitting on the counter just like this 17 hours later.
It sounded like a good idea. earlier.