Wrinkly Bits
A Blog by Gail Cushman
Ugh. My week has been one to remember, except I don’t want to remember it. It’s gone, in the rearview mirror, and I’m happy about that!
I got hit by Spam this week, not the kind you eat, which is not pleasing to my tummy, but by some sort of “AI” ne’er-do-well that decided I needed harassing. Does he not have anything better to do?
Cowboy can tell stories about Spam, the kind you eat, and they will make you chuckle, but why, oh why, does anyone want to Spam me. It’s enough to make me stop blogging, and take up naked sky diving or underwater basket weaving or the speed skating on ice or some such thing.
This AI…I’ll call him or her “Calamity,” just for the halibut, interrupted my life and I’m not happy. I got 255 emails from him, all sent through my website. They actually looked like book orders, all the same book. Now that would normally make me smile, but all except five were bogus, phony emails, phony addresses, and probably phony names. I called the website folks…well, they speak a different language that I call “Geek Speak,” which has an alphabet, but there is no order or structure to the words, so that conversation went nowhere. Then I talked to the bank, unsure how the website connects to the bank and whatever else happens, and the banker patted me on the hand, “No worries, Miss Gail,” which is the equivalent to, “Go away, Gail, don’t bother me.” Sigh. Then Wednesday came.
Cowboy’s birthday was Wednesday, “What kind of cake or pie do you want?” I thought it would be easy, after the Spam issue. I thought he might ask for mincemeat, which I still have from my Thanksgiving fiasco. We were invited out for dinner, and I was tasked with the dessert.
“I love carrot cake,” he said without hesitation. “It’s the best.” I was nearly jumping for joy because I have the BEST carrot cake recipe in the world, from Rose, my sister-in-law. I had made it a few times and it was great. I had all the ingredients, except carrots, so I was off to the store and found four beautiful carrots. Note, it was a from-scratch recipe, not a bakery cake. I made it by hand, and I measured and stirred hard to get it just right. It’s a big recipe and I needed two cake pans. It looked great. Into the oven, and exactly 40 minutes later, I removed it from the oven. Oh, no! It was flat as a pancake. I mean it looked like Aunt Jemima had a hand in making it. Flat.
I couldn’t figure it out, I had followed Rose’s directions to a T. As a last resort, I decided to check expiration dates on the various ingredients. I have never really paid attention to expiration dates, but could this be the cause? Yikes: Baking powder, best if used by 2018. Baking soda, best if used by 2016. Flour best, if used by 2020.
Cowboy said, “What did you do? We’ve gotta leave in a couple hours.”
“I have to go to the store, Cowboy, get the truck,” I said in my nicest Miss Gail tone. And off we went.
Well, do you know that they have Carrot Cake mixes? And frosting mix? They do. I checked the expiration date; everything was up to snuff. I bought a couple more carrots, just in case Betty Crocker had been chintzy. Added a frosting mix and candles and soon I was mixing water, oil, eggs, cake mix, and carrots together. I poured them into the cake pan I had just washed. Oh my, what a beautiful cake. I frosted it and it was B-Utiful. I covered it with foil and soon we were at our friend’s house. I started to cut the cake and it fell apart. Crumbs & crumbles, lumps & bumps, chips & drips. Every piece looked worse than the last. Plus, I left the candles at home, which might be a good thing because the fire department is volunteer, and well, you know…Lots of candles, big flames, etc. It’s the thought that counts, right?
Fast forward to next year. Spam. Stick a candle in and we’re good to go. Happy birthday, Cowboy!
