Time Flies And We Fly With It

Ah lah. 
I was hoping to be so productive today. I had a list of six items and was sort of hoping I'd get even more than those things done but as of this point, only three things are crossed out and one of those was done so poorly I feel I should hang my head in shame. 
That, of course, would be the making of the cake. 
As the cake had four different elements to it and I feel as if I did none of them very well, I can now use the first real cussing I ever really heard as a child. It came from the movie "Spencer's Mountain" which was based on a book by Earl Hammer, Jr., and from whence the very popular "The Walton's" TV series was also born. The movie was released in 1963 which would have made me nine years old or so and it was one of the few movies I saw as a young child. The pickings were a lot slimmer in those days when it came to movies suited for children to see. 
Anyway, at one point in the movie, one of the children says, "Damn, damn, double damn, triple damn HELL!" which is something he or she (I forget) had heard the father say. The washing out of a mouth with soap was threatened and possibly the chance of the child going to hell was also discussed. 
I was so shocked I could have fainted dead away. And at the same time, I was thrilled. Something in the nine-year old Mary knew to her bones that cussing was not only something that was done, it seemed like such an excellent thing to do. I would say it under my breath sometimes, or even just in my mind. 
Damn, damn, double damn, triple damn hell!
Come on forth, Satan! I am not afraid of you! 
So the cake was sort of a damn, damn, double damn, triple damn hell situation. 
I made the curd yesterday and it never did thicken correctly. This morning I added an egg yolk and reheated it which is what the all-knowing internet advised. I put it in the freezer and stirred it regularly to get the cold mixed all up in it. Still, it never really got any thicker. The frosting had so much butter and cream cheese in it that there didn't seem to be enough confectioner's sugar on this planet to thicken it up properly either. 
The cake itself seemed fine. It rose and everything although because my kitchen is tilted, the layers are all jabberwocky. So putting all of these elements together, which is what one literally does with a cake, resulted in some slippin' and slidin' and curd running out of where it was between layers like it was being chased by demons and the frosting, which was supposed to sort of dam all that stuff in simply did not do it, and okay, I sort of overly toasted the coconut flakes but by that time I was in true Fuck It mode and did the best I could and then put that baby in the freezer. So now it's frozen into a shape that brings to mind the Leaning Tower of Pisa except it's not that pretty, and, well...
That's the way that went. The kitchen ended up coated and covered with curd and frosting and overly toasted coconut flakes and I could just see the tiny black ants that have been plaguing me on the back porch covering the whole room with a solid carpet of their micro sugar-craving bodies. 
Sigh.
It's all cleaned up now. My hands still feel a little bit sticky despite repeated washing. I'm probably imagining that. 
I did get the chicken cooked for the chicken flautas I'm going to be making tomorrow. I think I may have discussed these before, quite possibly even yesterday. I've had the recipe since about 1978 and trust me when I say there is very little that is Mexican about them but my Lord, they are delicious. And as Lily says, they were one of the very few things I actually deep fried for our family. I'd never thought about that before but she is right. And they were worth it. There's also an "avocado sauce" you serve over them which has nothing in common with guacamole except for the avocados but it, too, is delicious and I will make that too. 

And I've gotten little else done. 
The crows were especially demanding this morning, letting me know in no uncertain terms they were ready to eat. Of course I complied. 

I'm never going to get a decent shot of these birds because I have to take the pictures behind the screen and if I so much as move they fly away. I wish I could though, as they are handsome creatures.

I hauled the cardboard and paper which had accumulated in the pantry out to the burn pile and I turned the sprinklers on in the garden. Everything seems to be coming up pretty well but I still have things I need to plant. 

I did laundry, I remade the bed. And honestly, that was about it and that wouldn't have been a quarter of a day's work for me ten years ago but I'm exhausted. 

I had thought that Mr. Moon wasn't getting home until tomorrow but I was wrong. He pulled in right at martini time and I am so glad to see him. I've been a little melancholy today. Not sure why. The weather has been gorgeous, noticeably cooler. I've had the doors open all day long, letting in this good, real air. Although I've enjoyed that so much, I think there is an element of knowing that fall is really and truly coming that, although so welcome, is also the harbinger of winter and the end of another year of life. Things change when you get older. You can be happy about something and yet still aware of a sort of tinge of sadness mixed in. So I'm glad he's home and here.   
A. is still getting tested for many, many things. They have ruled out mosquito-borne encephalitis and west Nile virus. I guess that's good but those are only two of the things that could be causing all of this and there are, as far as I can see, an uncountable number of other possibilities. Other things are going on as to his care and treatment regime. It's all so unbelievable. 

******************

Seventeen years ago, Lily had been in labor for over twenty hours and still had many more to go. She was so strong and such a goddess in her laboring. I am still pissed off at the doctors who convinced her that she should be induced because her baby was getting "so big" when he really wasn't anything resembling gigantic and my god- Lily is an Amazon. Her subsequent births were nothing like that one. Gibson and Maggie, born according to their own schedules, came fast and, if not exactly easily, then at least without complication, at home via midwife delivery. 
I could go on but I will not. 

The main thing is, Owen was born at last, and was welcomed with such joy by all of us. He changed our family into one of three generations instead of two. He made Lily a mother, Jason a father, all the siblings aunts and an uncle, and Glen and I became grandparents. 
Such a gift. 
Well, I'll see him tomorrow. So strange how in a short seventeen years he has changed from a baby whom I could hold so easily to someone who could probably carry me if he had to. 

Here's a rose after being watered by the sprinklers today. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon