shoe of the day...

shoe of the day...

Friday, June 8, 2007

birthdays, poo and the healing powers of rhubarb.

today is the wee bakery's 6 month birthday! happy birthday, wee bakery. i will bake you some wee cupcakes. were you an actual bakery, i could go to you and buy said cupcakes. but you are not. you are a silly, nonsensical internety entity. readership: 4
but i love you for giving me someplace other than my binding-less, drama filled notebook to focus my craziness.

in non-birthday related news (hi. buy me a dictionary. 'news' came out 'noos' on the first go around.): for reasons we have yet to ascertain, my niece has started to refer to herself as either a "doody factory" or a "poop factory" upon the production of a dirty diaper. hilarious.

in non-birthday and non-doody related news [noos]: i got nothing. it's friday, and i'm going to see ocean's 13 this evening. saw ocean's 11 on a first date with a former boyfriend, ocean's 12 pretty much crapped the bed...the fate of the ocean's legacy in my brain forever hinges on this third installment.

yesterday i gleefully sent my mother this recipe. today, she emailed back saying that a teacher at her school brought in some rhubarb so, "your assignment, should you choose to accept it..."
i believe the spirit of kitty grandma (my maternal grandmother) shall be dancing a jig over her granddaughter's new food project. happier, hopefully, than the time mom and i were making easter cookies and the porcelain cardinal fell off the shelf, a clear sign that we were being watched and should not omit the anise flavoring, no matter how much i complained. my grandmother was a brilliant cook and baker and certain things about her and her house will forever (hopefully) be inscribed into my brain: her yellow rice with mushrooms, the possum that temporarily moved into her porch, helping her pick strawberries in the back yard, getting stung by a hornet that nested in the front steps, seeing her drop a piece of chicken onto the floor while turning it over to see if it was done and unleashing a "sonofabitch!" -- the likes of which i've never heard again. her cat. her basement, lined with jars upon jars of home-canned fruits and vegetables. it was a veritable laboratory of food brilliant. going to the premiere of this movie -- in the town where she lived -- and the accompanying terror of sleeping in her house, or any house with windows, for at least a year. i've missed her everyday for eighteen years.

i feel old and sad. and anxiously awaiting that rhubarb.

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