You remember when everything was all hurry and rush in the family home on weekday mornings? Dad had to go to work and mom was so busy getting everyone off with breakfast and lunch (some mornings getting ready for dinner too) that it was a cold bowl of cereal and a quick kiss before the bus was there. Off to school and just another day in Junior High. (In my house mom was off to work too; it was crazy busy.) But remember Sunday morning? You get to sleep in, mom has gotten up to get a nice breakfast ready; pancakes or French toast, waffles if your lucky, eggs, hot coffee peculating in all its caffeinated glory, and bacon. Oh yes, it was Sunday morning, there was hot coffee, no where to run off to and crispy hot bacon. So, when I really love something like I loved those mornings sinking into a hot cup of coffee, some syruped waffles, and wonderful bacon; I call it Sunday Bacon.
I made a cake yesterday, red velvet with butter cream frosting. I made the frosting too. I am sitting here having a slice of that moist, not too sweet cake and a cup of hot Earl Gray with sugar and cream. Its the best cake I have ever made and I don't know if I dare to make a different one in the foolish hope that it too could be this damn good. I will have to try my hand at a chocolate cake next, but alas I may never make such a cake as this one. It was most definitely Sunday Bacon.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
I Have Arrived
A great many things have happened since I wrote last. I have made my move to California and am settling into my new apartment. I like to get myself situated as fast as possible, so needless to say I have one last box to empty and some books to take to the used book store downtown Sunnyvale today.
I am in desperate need of a love seat, some book cases for Tim's books, and perhaps a reading chair, but all that will come in time as I plan on furnishing most of the place with only things I find on Craig's List. I have been looking for a backers rack and I believe I will be picking one up this weekend from someone holding it for me and then the kitchen will be complete. I have two pictures here of the inside kitchen wall. There is no storage in this kitchen, seems to be a running theme in CA, so I built a pantry in the unused space. Does it seem that I might have too much tea?
It has been a challenge moving into a place of my own as I have never lived alone. Its a strange feeling waking up to no one, but Sammie. I have gotten out and found a nice cafe in downtown and a few other stores of importance, like Safeway, but I have yet to find my spot. I keep looking for the place that will make me feel like I live here, but I suppose as the furniture it too will come in time.
Ok everyone that's the update for now. I will write more here soon. I just seem to be busy getting my self settled so I have found little time to write, but do call if you are thinking of me. I almost always have time to chat. Just not while driving, I guess its illegal out here.
I am in desperate need of a love seat, some book cases for Tim's books, and perhaps a reading chair, but all that will come in time as I plan on furnishing most of the place with only things I find on Craig's List. I have been looking for a backers rack and I believe I will be picking one up this weekend from someone holding it for me and then the kitchen will be complete. I have two pictures here of the inside kitchen wall. There is no storage in this kitchen, seems to be a running theme in CA, so I built a pantry in the unused space. Does it seem that I might have too much tea?
It has been a challenge moving into a place of my own as I have never lived alone. Its a strange feeling waking up to no one, but Sammie. I have gotten out and found a nice cafe in downtown and a few other stores of importance, like Safeway, but I have yet to find my spot. I keep looking for the place that will make me feel like I live here, but I suppose as the furniture it too will come in time.
Ok everyone that's the update for now. I will write more here soon. I just seem to be busy getting my self settled so I have found little time to write, but do call if you are thinking of me. I almost always have time to chat. Just not while driving, I guess its illegal out here.
Monday, February 9, 2009
The Owner Is Packing
Sammie is my Maine Coon. If any of you know what that is you know I have a handful. He is one of the largest breeds of cat, long haired and not too happy about all the boxes. I have been getting myself ready for my move to California to be with my fiancé. He has even gotten me an apartment that will accommodate me and Sammie and I am looking forward to being with him, but it seems that Sammie has other ideas.
I begin to pack a box and he sits in it. If I take him out and continue packing he howls at me, I really mean howl. These cats have some lungs are not afraid of being vocal. Let’s just say he can wake the baby one floor down from her. Well he howls and then gets back in the box. I think he might be unhappy about moving again. I am told this breed is really adaptable, but I think the two moves in one year are getting on his nerves. Can’t blame him really I don’t want to move again for a while after this.
On top of the howling and sit-in protests in my boxes he has not let me sleep one night since I started past 6am. He also sits on me. He never does that, I mean I have had this cat for over 7 years now and he is sitting on me. He also won’t let me out of his site. I am told when I leave the house he mourns. Pacing around the house and howling. It’s not like he is alone, but he seems to fret that I might not return.
Well all this aside I think he will like being in California. Tim was always his favorite person and if I could just get it through to him that’s where we were going I am sure he would settle down. Sadly he is a cat and as such cannot be reasoned with so I will continue pushing him out of boxes and turning the music up to keep the howling from getting too beyond my threshold for paranoid cats.
I begin to pack a box and he sits in it. If I take him out and continue packing he howls at me, I really mean howl. These cats have some lungs are not afraid of being vocal. Let’s just say he can wake the baby one floor down from her. Well he howls and then gets back in the box. I think he might be unhappy about moving again. I am told this breed is really adaptable, but I think the two moves in one year are getting on his nerves. Can’t blame him really I don’t want to move again for a while after this.
On top of the howling and sit-in protests in my boxes he has not let me sleep one night since I started past 6am. He also sits on me. He never does that, I mean I have had this cat for over 7 years now and he is sitting on me. He also won’t let me out of his site. I am told when I leave the house he mourns. Pacing around the house and howling. It’s not like he is alone, but he seems to fret that I might not return.
Well all this aside I think he will like being in California. Tim was always his favorite person and if I could just get it through to him that’s where we were going I am sure he would settle down. Sadly he is a cat and as such cannot be reasoned with so I will continue pushing him out of boxes and turning the music up to keep the howling from getting too beyond my threshold for paranoid cats.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Taxes And A Two Year Old
Waking up to the sunshine streaming into my windows I look at the time, ugh, 6:45. I lay in bed for about two minutes till Sammie decides I should be up. As the cat continuously paces on my chest, tries for my face, and is chatting at me like some gossipy teenage girl about the latest cute boy I realize if I am to get everything done for this move I have to get my list down to a manageable size. Pushing a protesting Sammie off my stomach I get myself up and ready for the morning.
PJs; check, contacts; check, coffee; check, breakfast; check, and last but not least all the forms I might need for my state taxes. Firing up the computer I sip my first cup with every intention of getting my state taxes filed before I do anything else this morning. The front door opens as the pc hums to life and I hear in a small sweet voice, “Good morning Aunty Heather!”. I look behind me and see Kaylee; she is a little over two years old and coming into her own personality. Her mother looks at my mother and wearily proceeds to tell her that little Miss Kaylee is uncooperative this morning. Great.
Well the taxes are nothing compared to a sly two year old who thinks she can get the upper hand. There are rules and I know them all, but Kaylee thinks I might not or that I might give in if she cries enough.
Breakfast; I am flipping through all the tax codes to find the deduction information I need and she proceeds to remove the towel off of her lap and begins to remove the bib. After thusly removing all clothing protection she goes to take her drink, but I remove it from her reach stating she may not have it till we replace the towel and bib. Those are the rules. She cries, loudly, hiding her face in her arms in typical dramatic two year old fashion.
Taking a sip of my increasingly cold coffee I look up from the tax booklet and ask if she is done with breakfast, she has had none of her oatmeal and one sip of her milk, she cries louder. Then she does something that makes me laugh. I know you are not supposed to laugh, but I can’t help it. She is rubbing her eyes in that fake crying that all children do when they are not getting their way and through her crocodile tears she pears up at me to see if I look concerned enough and if I will let her have her way now. I burst out laughing and tell her,” Those crocodile tears didn’t work yesterday on me. Why would they today?” This only makes her glare at me with the comprehension that this is not working and she immediately stops crying and tells me she is done with breakfast.
Enter Granddad; I ask if he knows where I might find the information I seek and he shows me where I might find it. Great just five more lines to work out! Kaylee sees her new mark and asks Granddad if she can have her cup and he begins the whole process of the towel and bib again with similar results. As she tells him under no uncertain terms will she be using the towel and bib this morning I am at the computer on the Colorado State Revenue site trying to get this paperwork filed. I ignore the screaming and chatter from the table and have almost finished when the site seemingly freezes. Great. It’s saved I will just get back to the previous page and start again. Almost finished now with less scream and crying in the background and more happy chatter.
Yes! Filled! A wave of satisfaction washes over me and I take one more sip of my now ice cold coffee. Ok, out of the high chair and now Grand mom needs to get Kaylee’s shoes on so they can go to the museum. That was a horror in the making. What’s up with this kid this morning? Shoes; on, jacket; in hand, stroller; in the trunk and finally child and grandparents out the door.
I need more coffee.
PJs; check, contacts; check, coffee; check, breakfast; check, and last but not least all the forms I might need for my state taxes. Firing up the computer I sip my first cup with every intention of getting my state taxes filed before I do anything else this morning. The front door opens as the pc hums to life and I hear in a small sweet voice, “Good morning Aunty Heather!”. I look behind me and see Kaylee; she is a little over two years old and coming into her own personality. Her mother looks at my mother and wearily proceeds to tell her that little Miss Kaylee is uncooperative this morning. Great.
Well the taxes are nothing compared to a sly two year old who thinks she can get the upper hand. There are rules and I know them all, but Kaylee thinks I might not or that I might give in if she cries enough.
Breakfast; I am flipping through all the tax codes to find the deduction information I need and she proceeds to remove the towel off of her lap and begins to remove the bib. After thusly removing all clothing protection she goes to take her drink, but I remove it from her reach stating she may not have it till we replace the towel and bib. Those are the rules. She cries, loudly, hiding her face in her arms in typical dramatic two year old fashion.
Taking a sip of my increasingly cold coffee I look up from the tax booklet and ask if she is done with breakfast, she has had none of her oatmeal and one sip of her milk, she cries louder. Then she does something that makes me laugh. I know you are not supposed to laugh, but I can’t help it. She is rubbing her eyes in that fake crying that all children do when they are not getting their way and through her crocodile tears she pears up at me to see if I look concerned enough and if I will let her have her way now. I burst out laughing and tell her,” Those crocodile tears didn’t work yesterday on me. Why would they today?” This only makes her glare at me with the comprehension that this is not working and she immediately stops crying and tells me she is done with breakfast.
Enter Granddad; I ask if he knows where I might find the information I seek and he shows me where I might find it. Great just five more lines to work out! Kaylee sees her new mark and asks Granddad if she can have her cup and he begins the whole process of the towel and bib again with similar results. As she tells him under no uncertain terms will she be using the towel and bib this morning I am at the computer on the Colorado State Revenue site trying to get this paperwork filed. I ignore the screaming and chatter from the table and have almost finished when the site seemingly freezes. Great. It’s saved I will just get back to the previous page and start again. Almost finished now with less scream and crying in the background and more happy chatter.
Yes! Filled! A wave of satisfaction washes over me and I take one more sip of my now ice cold coffee. Ok, out of the high chair and now Grand mom needs to get Kaylee’s shoes on so they can go to the museum. That was a horror in the making. What’s up with this kid this morning? Shoes; on, jacket; in hand, stroller; in the trunk and finally child and grandparents out the door.
I need more coffee.
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