![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Mr Owl ate my metal worm
Apr. 1st, 2012 07:36 pmLook at this wind map of the US! It looks like lustrous, flowing hair. I hope the Bureau of Meteorology does a similar one for Australia.
In time-well-spent news, yesterday I finished the samurai sudoku in the weekend supplement, my first one ever. That's one of those sudokus with five interlocking grids. Admittedly, it was rated Easy, but still, that's a lot of numbers to put correctly in a grid, and it took me quite some time.
My grandmother and her sisters and sisters-in-law seem to have each specialised in a different edible suitable for bringing to family get-togethers. That makes sense, now I think about it. They were like one of those crews of master criminals, assembled to pull off the perfect crime, or, in this case, a delicious feast. My gran's speciality was the pavlova. Her sister-in-law, Jinny, did the scones. Her scones are so good that she had to make and bring huge trays of them to her own fully-catered 90th birthday party last year. 'It just wouldn't be right without them,' she said. My gran's sister, Claire, is the sponge cake expert. This is what I mean by sponge cake. Claire's sponges are amazing. It's like biting clouds.
My mother, fine woman though she is, has long struggled with making sponge cakes. She made me one for my birthday last Monday, and it was very good. After I gave it the thanks and praise due, my mother said, 'Ah well, here's my first attempt.'
Ah well indeed. The first attempt was... imagine two pancakes joined together with cream, with some mysterious force of nature pulling the centre of the stack down to a deep well. 'I thought I'd get away with it,' said my mother, 'but then I iced it and...' She waved at the deep puddle of icing in the centre of the cake. Oh, we laughed. It tasted all right, though. So I had two cakes for my birthday, which was nice.
Yesterday evening I pottering about in the garden when I heard someone walking up the driveway and calling my name. It was my great-aunt Claire, carrying a box. She said, 'I can't stay, but a little bird told me that your birthday sponge didn't work out, so I made you a proper one, darl.' I thanked her and sent her off with some of my oyster mushrooms.
It turns out that when my mother decided to make a second cake, she had to buy some more eggs, and while doing that she met her cousin (and Claire's daughter) and told her about the sorry state of the first cake. And thus, I had a three-cake birthday.
In time-well-spent news, yesterday I finished the samurai sudoku in the weekend supplement, my first one ever. That's one of those sudokus with five interlocking grids. Admittedly, it was rated Easy, but still, that's a lot of numbers to put correctly in a grid, and it took me quite some time.
My grandmother and her sisters and sisters-in-law seem to have each specialised in a different edible suitable for bringing to family get-togethers. That makes sense, now I think about it. They were like one of those crews of master criminals, assembled to pull off the perfect crime, or, in this case, a delicious feast. My gran's speciality was the pavlova. Her sister-in-law, Jinny, did the scones. Her scones are so good that she had to make and bring huge trays of them to her own fully-catered 90th birthday party last year. 'It just wouldn't be right without them,' she said. My gran's sister, Claire, is the sponge cake expert. This is what I mean by sponge cake. Claire's sponges are amazing. It's like biting clouds.
My mother, fine woman though she is, has long struggled with making sponge cakes. She made me one for my birthday last Monday, and it was very good. After I gave it the thanks and praise due, my mother said, 'Ah well, here's my first attempt.'
Ah well indeed. The first attempt was... imagine two pancakes joined together with cream, with some mysterious force of nature pulling the centre of the stack down to a deep well. 'I thought I'd get away with it,' said my mother, 'but then I iced it and...' She waved at the deep puddle of icing in the centre of the cake. Oh, we laughed. It tasted all right, though. So I had two cakes for my birthday, which was nice.
Yesterday evening I pottering about in the garden when I heard someone walking up the driveway and calling my name. It was my great-aunt Claire, carrying a box. She said, 'I can't stay, but a little bird told me that your birthday sponge didn't work out, so I made you a proper one, darl.' I thanked her and sent her off with some of my oyster mushrooms.
It turns out that when my mother decided to make a second cake, she had to buy some more eggs, and while doing that she met her cousin (and Claire's daughter) and told her about the sorry state of the first cake. And thus, I had a three-cake birthday.