cake...

Well, the raspberry cornmeal cake tastes fine. It is, however, possibly the homeliest cake I've ever earmarked for a potluck (there being no time to make something else before tomorrow's choir retreat).

I suppose that's what I get for trying to bake a 9-inch cake in an 8-inch tin. On the other hand, the look on the BYM's face when he saw it cooling was priceless. (Think cake with golden-brown tentacle-blobs spilling over its sides. I shall have to recreate the effort on purpose if we ever hold a cephalopod-themed soiree...)

(no subject)

Umm, nigita? I really intended to write a sweet heffalump!Harry drabble for you, honest.

However, my brain is truly miswired at the moment, and what resulted was heffalump/Snape non-con. Please don't hex me...

Another note to my subconscious...

Dear Id:

You're mean. Having alarms go off repeatedly in my dreams? When I didn't actually have to get up yet? So. Not. On.

~ Me

---

That said, I am so going to use that in a poem or story. I suppose that's why my under-brain keeps pulling crap like this.

*scrubs hand over face*

That said, the first part of the dream was so intensely gorgeous I wanted to clutch it close to me: a splendid sky, fine fabrics, just the right amount of wind... I think it might have come from the happiness I was feeling as I headed up to bed (even though it was past 4 a.m. and I hadn't gotten nearly as much done as I'd wanted to): friends amused by my silliness. Devoted dog, her coat slick with rain. The way she spins and thumps every night as her going-to-sleep ritual. Clean clothes. The funny part of the final chapter of Return of the Native (all those feathers!). Leftover salmon in the fridge, fresh coffee within reach. A comfortable bed. Hundreds of books within reach. The sheer, glorious beauty of the night sky, and the cool, wet gray of this morning. That I'm alive to see the wind trouble the holly, and to push Abby's snout away from this keyboard, and to take a really ugly cake to a beautiful house that will be full of other friends, ready to sing with me in English and Russian and Serbian. That, this morning, there won't be a shuttle exploding over Texas. That, whatever happens, there will be people around me ready to help and mourn and bless and rejoice.