The only redeeming feature I can find about being A Certain Age is that I can blame my failing brain cells for forgetting all kinds of shit left, right and centre. The situation is dire if it’s taken me three weeks to remember to post photos of cake.
I toddled along to the Dutch bakery from heaven and couldn’t decide between the lemon tart and the flourless chocolate cake. And then I remembered I was the birthday girl and could have whatever I wanted, so I grabbed both! I felt like a bit of a piggy-wig carting two cake boxes down the street, but I’m of the age now that I don’t give a rat’s arse what people think.
The lemon tart thankfully wasn’t that shade of uranium yellow but I’m using a new image editor and can’t find the magic buttons to make my photography less craptapulous. Regardless, it was outstanding lemon tart.
The flourless chocolate cake was a revelation of dense chocolate cake (with almond meal if my taste buds serve me correctly), topped with ganache and with dark chocolate curls and wall around the outside. Why aren’t all cakes bolstered with dark chocolate walls, I must ask?
I found a tiara in a junk shop. And wore it. To the day job. And served leftover cake while wearing it. The co-workers are now scared of me and that was the effect I wanted.
I was struck by genius and decided to take a portrait of myself with Mini while wearing my tiara. Never work with tiaras or animals because he ripped it from my head and tried to bring down and kill the fluffy part along the crown.
I put my feet up after a pedicure and watched Bold and the Beautiful. My Gammyfootectomy is scheduled on 15 June and I’m deciding which colour nail polish to wear on the day (I know it’s irrelevant as I’ll go with squeaky clean feet so the surgical team isn’t distracted by my impeccable taste in goth nail colours, but it’s a nice way of living in denial about being cut to pieces by sword-wielding maniacs in gowns while I’m unconscious).
ThePurpleOwl sent mysterious text messages about receiving a consignment of elephants and I was checking my driveway daily for a convoy of elephant transporters. Eventually the parcel arrived after having travelled a long and circuitous route; I can only wonder how many Australia Post staff read the warning message:
The most ace thing ever is receiving an envelope to the House of Crankypants with a Douglas Adams postcode. You rock, my PurpleOwl, and for your awesomeness you get first ride on Mr Shuffles when he’s bigger and broken in.
The elephant wine glass charms are great fun. I tried to make a necklace for Mini but he cracked the shits at me again.
Crank-o-meter: any day is cake day