Another conversation

I got to meet Mary, an email friend, face to face.  It was lovely to meet her!  Lovely person.  And she has the sweetest Malinois in the world.  Meet  Ms. J: 

 

 

Unlike many Malinois, this pretty girl is delighted to meet new people and to be given fur-loosening scratches.  She also gives kisses and even jumped up and hugged me.  Yeah, I would have given her my car at that point.

 

Two beagles and a wire fox terrier, however, weren't as delighted with my new friendship.  When I walked through the door, there were three little black noses giving me a going-over. 

 

HRHTM:  Um...is there something you want to tell us?

Me:  What?  No.  What would I have to tell you?

Bailey:  How about why you're home late from work?  Smelling like [sniff sniff]  Is that Malinois???

Me:  Well, yeah, but it's not what you think.

Maddie Mae:  Ohhhh.  It's not what we think.  I see.  I get it.

Me:  No, really, I was visiting Mary and she has a great dog and I was just petting her a little--

All three:   [groan]

Bailey:  Petting her.  Uh huh.

HRHTM:  What, are we not ENOUGH for you?  You need more dog than we can give you?

Bailey:  I mean, after all we've meant to each other, this is how you act?

HRHTM:  And judging from the amount of fur on your clothes, I guess we're just not fuzzy enough.

Me:  Guys!  Seriously!  Come on.  It was a few pets.

Maddie Mae:  A few pets?  A few pets?  Oh, and let me guess.  "It didn't mean anything.  You thought about us the whole time."  [shaking her head]  I don't even know who you are.  No!  I'm done.  I am too old for this crap.

 

 

And all three walked away.

 

I think I'm sleeping alone tonight.

It worked!!!!

My friend Courtney came over today, bringing with her the husband and the two furry children.  Her youngest, Oreo

 

 

is in love with Roommate's boy beagle.  It was deeply meaningful play date.

 

Because Courtney and her fella were in my house, I had to make something to offer them.  After all, if you come to my house, dearest, you must be hungry.  After a couple of hours of romp-n-play, the dogs were ready for a lie-down and the grownups were ready for a cup of tea and slice of cake.

 

Mmm.  Cake. I believe I've mentioned one of my favorite sources of cake recipes is The Caked Crusader's blog.   CC [superhero that she is] posts recipes that make my mouth water and the size of my derriere increase.  One of the recent recipes grabbed my attention and screamed, "MAKE ME FOR COURTNEY!!!!"

 

Why for Courtney, you may ask?  Okay, you didn't actually ask, but really, you might just be holding back on asking.  Go ahead.  Ask.

 

Oh, so glad you asked!

 

Courtney is one of my friends with food allergies.  She's allergic to:

• glutens
• eggs
• dairy
• nuts and
• yeast.

I've baked bread for Courtney before [no, it wasn't easy] and made cookies.  But what I really wanted was to make this cake.  It seemed like something she would love.  The problem?  Butter, eggs and flour. 

 

So what to do?  Don't worry, I'll tell you.  You know how I love doing that. 

 

First, I mixed a quarter cup of ground flaxseeds with three-quarters cup of water and let it sit.  It turns into a gooey, weird mess that works as an egg substitute.  Nooooo, not by itself!  Just in baked goods.  Don't try to scramble this.

 

Gack.

 

Second, I used coconut oil in place of butter.  I hadn't used it before, but it was a pretty easy substitution.  And the delicious coconutty smell of it made me want to sit on a beach while rubbing on suntan oil and sipping a mai tai.  Which would result in my getting hammered, hung over and sunburned to a freaking crisp.

 

It's better that I do my baking in the kitchen.

 

Finally, I used a really nice gluten free baking flour by Bob's Red Mill.  A lot of gluten free flours use almond flour, which would cause Courtney major discomfort, but BRM does a great job with nut-free flours.

 

But look!

 

 

It worked!!!  Courtney's hubster even had a second piece.  And then fixed my computer.  And then took care of the dogs.  What a guy.  Courtney should totally marry him.  Yes, I told her that, too.   

 

Puppy play date, Sunday sunshine and cake.  I love it when a plan comes together.

Volvo 1, Lisa Marie 0

This is the shape of the warning light that popped up on Volvo's dash when I was driving home from Courtney's house on Saturday night.  Generally, when Volvo flashes a warning light at me, it's not a good sign.  It usually means Volvo and I will be visiting the mechanic and it will cost us hundreds--if not thousands--of dollars.  Needless to say, I was a bit upset when I saw a heretofore unseen warning light, especially since I had NO idea what it indicated.

 

The conversation went like this:

 

Volvo:  Ping!

Me:  Wait.  What's that?  What does that mean?

Volvo:  La la la la la la....

Me:  What?  What is it?  What does that symbol mean?  Half circle-ish thing with lines?

Volvo:  Hmm hmm hmm hmm....

Me:  WHAT??  We're out of orange juice?  We need pulp-free?  You're sensitive to acids?  WHAT????!!!!

Volvo:  [quiet chuckle]

Me:  Fine.  I'm too tired to worry about it.  I'll look at it tomorrow.

Volvo:  Sure.  That's fine.  I'm not all that expensive to fix, when you've driven me.  ON AN INJURY.

Me:  DAMMIT.  Fine!  I'll look at the book when I get home.  I can't look right now; I'm driving.

Volvo:  Perfectly reasonable.  How many miles is it to the house?  On the freeway?  At night?

Me:  ARG!!!!!!  Where's a parking lot??  Where's a damn parking lot?????

Volvo:  Well, there's one we're just about to pass--oh.  Okay.  I guess we're pulling in, Mario Andretti.

Me:  You shut up.  Where's the book?  Okay, index...warning lights...Rear fog light?

Volvo:  Yes!

Me:  You have rear fog lights?

Volvo:  Tcha!  Of course I do.

Me:  Well, how did that get turned on?  How do I turn...seriously?  This switch?  That's what this was all about?

Volvo:  Well, it was this or the Hokey Pokey.

Me:  [thunking head against steering wheel]

Volvo:  Heehee!

Volvo has a mean sense of humor.

Six and a half months?

Sigh.

I know.  I dropped off the face of the earth.  Well, not dropped, exactly.  More like yanked off the face of the earth.  Yes, you guessed it.

Alien abduction. 

No, no.  I can't talk about it.  It's really too painful.   The fear!  The uncertainty!  The really weird smell!  It was---

What?

How can you suggest such a heinous thing!!!  Lying?  To you, dearest invisible friend?  Why, I'm horrified you'd even...suggest....

Okay, fine.  I was just lazy.  Happy now?

Moving on.

The Walk for Pancreatic cancer

My landlady was diagnosed with Stage III pancreatic cancer, more than five years ago.  Today, she is cancer free and walking a 5K in support of a cure.  Roommate and I are walking with her.

Www.pancan.org

She had a 2% chance of survival and she did it.

I think that's reason enough to walk in the rain.  In Seattle.  In November.  I think that's reason enough to wear every scrap of purple I can find and get my face painted.  I think that's reason enough to get up ridiculously early on a Sunday morning.

And if it weren't reason enough, the 98% who died, like my ex's mom, would make up the difference.

It's not a new sentiment,  or even a particularly pretty one, but all in all, I have to say:

Cancer sucks.

How do I let myself get talked into this?

Worst band.  Crappiest bar.  Roommate's coworkers.  One extremely toasted friend in absurdly high heels.

At the risk of sounding like Cinderella....

SOMEBODY GET ME OUT OF HERE.

Bits I Left Out

Dearest, I was reminded by the Great and Powerful Deb that I had not mentioned one or two tidbits about my weekend of gardening fun.  I am certain that this is a loss that would devastate you, so I shall correct this immediately, pausing only to breathe a word of thanks to the G&P Deb.

Thanks, Deb.

1)  I renamed lasagna gardening.  [I know, I know.  You wouldn't have survived not knowing this. Critical stuff here.]  After the forty-fifth layer of something....organic.  Yes, we'll just call it organic.  After the forty-fifth layer of something organic, I was reminded of another layered character.  At that very moment, I dubbed my activity "Shrek Gardening."  I do recognize that I am opening the door to endless, and annoying, impressions of Donkey, but what to do?  Shrek Gardening was dubbed.

2)  At one point, I looked over at my dog.  All three dogs were keeping me company as I Shrekked away [see, now it's a verb!] and HRH Tuppence Marie had just visited her stylist the previous day.  She was all clean and clipped and fluffy and white.  She lay there, happily sunning herself, enjoying the beautiful fall day, watching birds wing by and gazing up at a cloudless sky...while draped like the Queen of Sheba across my newly created Shrek garden.  I stopped Shrekking to shriek, "That's a FLOWER BED, not a DOG BED!!!!" 

I believe the look I got from her could be accurately interpreted as, "Whatevah."

3)  While I Shrekked away, Roommate helped with the yard work by doing one of her favorite things:  demo.  In yard terms, that means pruning some hapless tree or shrub within an inch of its life.  I didn't realize that while doing so, Roommate's gardening attire behaved poorly.  Her jeans had gotten too loose and wanted to slip downward.  Her shirt kept riding up in back.  If I had been paying attention, I might have noticed these minor wardrobe malfunctions and therefore not been surprised by Roommate's statement:

"I bet you're glad I put on underwear!"

I know.  It was an absolute General Foods International Coffee moment.  What else could I do but celebrate that moment in our lives?

Gardening.  It's pretty awesome.  ALmost as good as underwear.