a good coat

Harry Potter. Rocked. All the characters and locales were dead-on accurate. The Quidditch match was funktabular. My mom saw the movie at 9:40 am, I saw it at 9:30 pm. She said there were only 30 people in her theater, but they were all really nice people. One lady was a practicing witch, and another woman, not much younger than my mother, had a face full of piercings. How this has any bearing on the niceness of the people I don’t know, but I thought they were interesting details so I threw them in.

Today was marked with firm resolve. “I’m gonna make a cake!”

This statement was later amended into the past tense, “I made a burned and raw, lumpy cake!” We don’t have an electric mixer, and I’m too lazy to be any good at mixing by hand. I blamed the poor results on our flimsy wisk. Ryan blamed my flismy wrists. After 30 minutes in the oven I did the fork test (we don’t have toothpicks) and pulled a large, gooey section out of the cake’s middle. Well that’s no problem, I can just fill it with frosting.

Frosting covers the lumps too. Sometimes all the world needs a good coat of frosting to hide all the little ills. And another thing: where’s my snow?

Tonight will consist of a Sunny Wicked concert and staying up all night watching meteors at Palisade Head. I’m so excited I soiled my trousers.