Having a glorious birthday filled with wall-to-wall nothingness. After I got the munchkins off to school, that is.
I've caught up on my favorite blogs.
I've read all kinds of good wishes from my Facebook Friends.
I even began work on my New Year's resolution, which is to finish writing my book. I added to it for the first time since the kids let out of school last summer. All right, I only added a paragraph, but hey, I fulfilled the contract of my resolution by starting it.
I took a break to bake myself a birthday cake. Fred was planning to take this task on, but I've had my eye on a recipe, just waiting for a good excuse to try it out.
It's a chocolate sheet cake from the pages of my favorite cookbook. To the author, I must address this note:
Ree, you must leave the Marlboro Man and marry me. If you have kept abreast of current events you will know this is now leagal in some states.
It (my cake) looks scrumptious and I'm having a supremely hard time not digging into it. The only reason I've not done so yet is that I've had the pleasure of consuming a good bit of chocolate in the process of making this deliciousness.
Rest assured, no spatulas were harmed in the making of this cake. Batter was poured from mixing bowl to baking pan with the aid of gravity only. Whatever was left in the bowl was all mine. Not a soul around to yell out, "I call the bowl", "I call the scraper", "I call the beater". It was mine, all mine.
And when I caught sight of my reflection while washing up after this orgasmic baking experience, I looked like a four year old girl, with chocolate all over my face. I was literally bathed in chocolate.
Now that's the way to start off a birthday ....