For Thursday's child is Sunday's clown / For whom none will go mourning - MrPutter: doing things the hard way, because it is there.
For Thursday's child is Sunday's clown / For whom none will go mourning|
The transition is complete. I have successfully turned into my mother.
Current Location: T2L 2C7
Current Mood: indescribable
Current Music: The Velvet Underground -- All Tomorrow's Parties
Tags: food, no cat
You teach chemistry? Or nag yourself to brush your teeth?
best. location entry. ever.
When I was young, my mom used to spend (what seemed to my young mind) an indefensible amount of time baking cakes and desserts to take to staff meetings, SCWIST meetings, other dinner parties and sundry events. However, we rarely-to-never had any desserts in the house. Birthdays, Christmas, and that was about it. So it was agonizing watching my mom go through this baking frenzy once every month or so, only for the finished products to be whisked away no sooner than were they complete, never to be seen again. And us? Well, we had to wait until the next "special occasion" before the merest hint of chocolate would pass our mouths.
As mentioned previously, it was my turn to bring something in for Tuesday Tea today. I spent about ten hours in total—starting yesterday at 7:30, taking a hiatus to sleep, then resuming this morning and finishing just on time to run out the door this afternoon—baking a black forest cake and a 3-layer strawberry mousse cake to take with me.
On my return this evening, room-mate greeted me with a woeful betrayed-puppy-dog look, and inquired in vain whether there were any left-overs to be had.
Without realizing it, then, I have become exactly the person I found so frustrating about my mother.
> best. location entry. ever.
Huh? Location entry? You mean using my current postal code? I've, uh, been doing that ever since they introduced location tags...