Electricity

I'm feeling very housewifely today. I've just said good-bye to an electrician who rewired the ceiling fan on our screened porch, because it was somewhat weirdly wired before by Bean, the mysterious man who built the porch last year, and I was worried that eventually it would short out and, y'know, burn the entire house down.

Now I'm waiting for the clothes dryer repairman because the dryer is broken which is sort of a crisis when you have a baby. I'm also waiting for the awakening of LaLa, who will probably be crabby because we're sleep training her. Again. LaLa WAS sleeping through the night for a few glorious months, but then she started toothing and going back to her wake-up-every-four-hours ways. (Yes, I know the term is teething that that would imply TEETH, whereas LaLa has but a single, and apparently very painful, pain-in-the-butt tooth. A half-tooth, really. It sprouted through her gum and just stopped growing. Now it's just a tiny cusp of a chicklet. And very cute. But not really worth all the midnight grief it's put us through if you ask me.) See?

After LaLa wakes up, I head over to Husband's condo--the bachelor pad he lived in before we got hitched and which we've been renting out for a couple years--to whip it into shape so we can put it on the market.

And, because I apparently didn't have enough to do, over the weekend, I baked a cake. And not my usual 9 x 13, frosting-free, scoop-it-out-of-the-pan-to-serve EZ version of cake, but a real, live layer cake. And somehow, it worked! The layers plopped out of their pans intact. When I stacked them, the top layer didn't slide off the bottom one as I feared it would. There were no crumbs in the icing. And the whole shebang was only a tiny bit lopsided. See?

Best of all, when I presented it to my sister-in-law in honor of her birthday, she said it was the best chocolate cake she'd ever had.

I'm a little embarrassed at how proud I was of that cake.

I suspect that that's because it's easier to succeed at cake-baking than it is at book-writing (though I'm sure some pastry chefs would take offense at that) and I'm nervous about my latest venture into book-writing.

I'm also really excited about it. And thus, I have the sudden urge to read every YA book I can get my hands on, which is tough because I have very little time to read, what with all the electrical repairs and dirty baby clothes and cakes to attend to.

Not that I'm complaining. It seems the more chaotic and messy my life gets, the more I love my life. So . . . onward to the next crisis!

xoxo

Elizabeth