I am California

2 days from D-Day. Lots of little tremors, just sitting here waiting for The Big One.

Watch this space...

I'm back.

But that's not the big news. THIS is the big news:


And this photo is a couple months old already. I'm T minus 2 weeks, and boy am I ready to pop. My mom and doc don't think I'll make it to 40 weeks, which is good, because I'm SO FREAKIN' SICK OF BEING PREGNANT!!!! (I know I know, after I wanted to be pregnant soooooo badly. So I'm a hypocrite. Shoot me.)

In other developments, Pirate and I no longer reside in sunny Cornwall. Now we're living in bloody Swindon. Thank fuck it's only temporary. We'll be out of here in July.

So why the sudden return to blogging? You can thank First Nations for that. I saw that she was back on line again and it inspired me. That, and Pirate has been bugging me to get back in the blogging saddle for a while. He's scared I'll get hit with post-partum depression (a legit fear, with my family history and my own history of depression) and knows how supportive all my imaginary friends have been in the past, and figures one more safety net can't be a bad thing. Plus all kinds of zany crap keeps happening to us, and he's constantly saying shit like "this would make an awesome blog post." And he's right.

So watch this space...

Announcing Yakee Cakes!

I finally did it! I have a business! A real one, with a website and everything. Check it out:

www.yankeecakes.co.uk

Now, my technical advisor (Pirate) informs me that for my website to be known to search engines there have to be lots of links to it on other websites. I've created a couple business listings in places like yell.com, but it would really help if each of you would just whack a link to my business in your blog. It doesn't matter what continent you're on, there just need to be a ton of links out there in the ether.

Pirate explained a new website is like a walled garden, and every link you create is gate in the wall. Make enough gates, and eventually Google will notice you exist.

(For the techies who are now rolling their eyes, we've already done the meta data and keywords in the html code.)

Now get linking and send me some business!

(and if you know of any one in the soutwest who's getting married, point them my way.)

Stripper

Last week the Pirate and I were given a load of second-hand furniture by the parents of some friends of ours. They are moving and downsizing from a 5K square foot house to a 2.2K square foot mansion flat. So, naturally, some furniture had to go. For the £130 we spent on van rental we made out like bandits.

We are now the proud owners of a 7 foot-long sofa, 2 chests of drawers and matching beside tables from Habitat and accompanying mirror, 4 teak folding patio chairs, and two solid wood bedside tables.

It's these latter bedside tables which are of interest. They were in the shed in the garden (the shed in this case being larger than our dining room) and we were told, "Oh you don't want those; they're awful and full of mold and woodworm. We're going to burn them." They were painted white and while plain and in need of some TLC, were discovered to be rather sturdily built.

"Oh please let us have them!" we begged. Since they were marked for the woodpile we were told we welcome to them, but it was implied we were more than a little silly for wanting them.

We got them home and went to work on them. It's amazing what you can do with a can of Nitromors, a pair of neoprene gloves, and a week of Olympic TV coverage.

I should have the last bits of the decorative molding I'm adding on this afternoon, and then i'll put the pics up. I think you'll agree: I've got a new carreer cut out as a stripper.

Yay! Also, Oops.

I've done it; I've started Kingfisher Cakes. The website will be online shortly. (I hope.)

I'm extremely excited about this. I began this with the view that it would just be a little cottage industry, something to help me earn a little pin money. But looking at the way the website is shaping up (I'm making it in MS Publisher), it looks ruddy professional. Now I'm thinking, the sky's the limit. Who knows how far this could go? How far do I want to take it? I don't even know, but I'm open to much bigger possibilities that I was a few months ago.

I've also just realized that in telling y'all the name of the business you'll be able to go to my website and find the real me. Now all you cyber-crazies can find me in meat-space. Oops. Oh well. I'll have to take my chances. It never occured to me when I began discussing this with you that I was crossing over my real and virtual personalities. Now you know. Too late.

And for your edification and delight, here are some photos of cakes I have made recently:

First up is a double-chocolate, 10-inch square layer cake with chocolate buttercream frosting, decorated in a solar-system theme with hand-piped buttercream.

Next is this awesome R2-D2 cake. Fully 18" across, the sponge is chocolate, covered with white buttercram frosting and decorated with hand-piped buttercream and silver sugar balls (which you can't really see in the photo but looked great in person).

Lastly is my own wedding cake. Two tiers of lemon drizzle layer cake, 2 tiers of carrot layer cake, all covered with cream cheese frosting and decorated with real pansies and rose petals which had been crystallized by hand by yours truly, and all of which were completely edible.

So whadda ya think? Would you pay money for one of my cakes? (Oh, and I have learned how to do marzipan and sugarpaste, so if that's the look you're going for, I can does that, too.)

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.


KINGFISHER CAKES

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?


CORONATION CAKES

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.


CONFETTI CAKES

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.

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.