Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Once more unto the breach, dear friends

I'm eating leftover homemade spetzla with onion gravy for lunch and drinking Franziskaner, but that's not important right now. The key here is, what should I name my new bakery?

I know I asked you this before, but I've narrowed it down to 3 finalists, so I'm going to smoke one more pole. I mean poll. Yeah. (And no, I am not so think as you drunk I am in the diddle of the may.)

To give y'all my thoughts on the finalists, I'd like to construct a handy table, but blogger is not big on tables, so you'll just have to plow though the nicely laid-out text. Here goes.


Cons: What the fuck have fish got to do with cakes? We're not talking fish-flavoured cakes here, are we?

Pros: No we're bloody not. The kingfisher is a symbol of unspoilt countryside. It suggests beauty, purity, and a bit of sparkle. It's elusive, and therefore a bit magical. Cakes should be beautiful, sparkle, and be a little magical. You get it now?


Pros: Suggests big, grand celebrations. Evokes images of big ball gowns and stuff covered in gold. Majestic, gradiose, royal. Everything a cake should be.

Cons: The last coronation was in 1953. The word 'coronation' resurrects memories of stuffy, awful, 1950s cuisine, doilies, old women in clunky shoes, and chunks of chicken covered in gloopy, yellow mayonaise. And a god-awful, long-running soap opera.


Pros: Nothing says 'party' like confetti! Except maybe cakes. Cheerful, colorful, light, and whimsical. Everything a cake should be.

Cons: Not quite as distinctive as the other two. Harder to spell. (Is that one 'f' and two 'ts' or two 'fs' and one 't'?)

So what d'y'all think? Comments in the usual place, vote in the sidebar on the left.

Sunday, January 24, 2010

The Golant Is Not Enough

I've gotten back in to rowing. Sculling, specifically, which is better for my back. I found a club near here (only an hour drive!), called Castle Dore Rowing Club, which is a recreational (ie, non-competitive) community fitness club, largely made up of middle-aged vets with busticated back. Perfect! (Or so I thought.)

For the past month or so I've been going out with them on a Sunday afternnon. The river is lovely (when there's water in it). It's always a scratch crew, made up of whomever shows up: men, women, novice, vets, whatever; we all get lumped in together. I was really enjoying myself, just pissing about on the water, not having to think about upcoming events, split times, or whether stroke could possibly go any faster up the fucking slide (Jesus Christ, Becky, it's not a race to the catch!).

And then something happened. I was in a crew with 3 blokes, all of them half-decent oarsmen. We set a rhythm. It wasn't shit. We pulled on it. The boat moved. We lifted the shell onto the surface of the river and heard the water bubbling cheerfully as we whizzed along. We moved. It felt fantastic.

And I was done for. The adrenaline all came surging back in time with the surge of the boat. I felt my heart pounding. I heard my quads say to me, "Oh yeah, we remember this!" I fell in love again.

The quiet, little, recreational club isn't enough any more. I want to go fast. I want to go fast now. I'm too young to be an allakadoo. I'm too young to be this old. I'm getting back on the ergo. I'm setting training regime, and when Pirate and I move away from Cornwall sometime this spring, I'm joining a proper boat club again. I want to win shit.

Friday, January 15, 2010

Wee Mighty Predator

The small predator had a big day yesterday. In the eyes of the neighborhood moggies, he is now A Man.

He caught his first mouse.

Before yesterday I wasn't sure if he was a hunter or not. After seeing his behavoir, I'm convinced that if he'd had a kill before now we'd have known all about it.

I came home from the supermarket and found a dead mouse right in the middle of the front hall carpet, with Pai walking around it in circles around it, chest all puffed out, tail up, and saying to me "Look at me! Look what I did!*" He was so chuffed with himself I gave him a pat on the head to acknowledge his achievment, and then he did something I did not expect.

Despite the mouse being well and truly dead (I checked), he clearly wasn't done with it. He put it someplace where I coudln't miss seeing it, but once I had seen it Pai wanted to continue playing with it. He picket it up in his mouth, threw it across the hall, and pounced on it. This he repeated several times until by accident he threw it in with the cardboard recycling. He tried to climb in after it, but the density of empty cereal boxes made this impossible.

Not wanting it to rot and stink in there, I dug it out and carried it outside on the front porch, where I told Pai that he could keep it, but it was strictly an outdoor toy. He listened, bless him. He carried on playing with the mouse outside, but didn't bring it in the house again after that. Such a good kitty! I did get a huge kick out of watching him throw it straight up in the air and then bat it between his paws as it came back down, the fucked-up feline.

*He was speaking Cat, naturally, but some things are so obvious they need no translation.

Saturday, January 09, 2010

And the beat goes on

I've finally done it. I've finally pursuaded the Pirate to let me lose the patch and allow nature to take it's course.

Damnit, I'm going to be 31 in just a couple days! fuck me that sounds OLD.

Part of me is rejoicing, but part of me is still really worried. He doesn't seem happy with the idea, just resigned to it. I don't want it to be like that. I want it to be a happy occurance (when it eventually occurs). Having a baby should be full of joy, not resignation to your wife's biological clock.

I want him to want what I want, but life just doesn't work that way.

So I finally got what I want, but I can't bring myself to be happy about it. Fuck.

And I'm about to turn 31.

(Jesus, have I ever sounded more like Herebe? Now there's a frightening thought.)

Tuesday, January 05, 2010

I have the absolute power of veto and override

and I'm prepared to use it.

I thank you all for input and votes. Clearly The Bespoke Bakery is the popular choice (well done, Herebe, for suggesting it*). Sadly, it's just not jiving with me. Yes, it does what it says on the tin, which is important, and yes, bespoke means custom and and high-class and all of that which is good, but somehow it's just a little too... too... I dunno, generic? It's a name that could belong to anybody, anywhere, and I guess I'm after something a little more unique and individual.

With that in mind I've been gravitating toward Coronation Cakes and Kingfisher Cakes. Coronation is good. I conjurs images of balls and princesses and crowns; it's posh, it describes an occasion at which you want a really, really good cake; and it is highly suggestive of Royalty.

Which might be great for marketing purposes, but just makes me wince, just a little. I'm not a royalist. I don't bow and scrape to someone just because of who they were born. People earn my respect; they don 't get it by birthright. And the blue collar, union-member Democrat in me just can't bring myself to have that sort of association. *sigh*

So my first choice is Kingfisher. The kingfisher is a beautiful, rare, and elusive bird. It is synonymous with pristine, untouched countryside, and has an almost magical aura about it. It crops up frequently in poetry, always a symbol of the majestic, divine, etherial, mystical. More to the point, it has awesome logo potential and scans well with cakes, with the strong stresses on the first and finaly syllables, which is pleasing to my tongue and ear.

I know some marketing types will suggest that I shouldn't be concerned with whether my name begins with a dactyl or an anapest, but I, like Winston Churchill, believe these things register on a subconscious level with all hearers, regardless of their familiarity with scansion, and are therefore important.

And above all, it's unique. It's jazzy. It stands out. It's catchy. And I like it.

I hope you won't feel your votes are wasted; on the contrary. Watching the votes come in and registering my emotional responses to the results has been extremely useful in helping me to clarify and and understand my own mind. So I thank you, genuinely and sincerely. And when the new website is up and running, I'll be sure to linky you all.

At the moment, I am drunk and in no position to create anything. Woo.

*Since it won the poll I will still send you a cake for creating the winning name. :-)