Piece o' cake

One of these days I'll learn to prepare something remotely complicated without losing my shit. I mean, surprising your hubby with a sweet treat earns you no boyfriend brownie points if you snap at him while trying to get the eggs to whip up. And at the end of it all, I was still left with two burnt cakelets good for nothing but trifle. Nuts. I admit, 375° seemed awful hot for cake, but I know I've made this Sandtorte recipe before with better results. I'll just have to try again at a more relaxed juncture.

The phone rang about an hour ago and it wasn't any of the three or four people I expected to call but Nuphy back from his trip out west and dying to share his sordid tails of sleaze on the public rails with someone. So I obliged. Only then did I call up my father (we actually got nearly a week's warning on this visit, whoo-hoo!) and set plants for Chief O'Neill's Saturday morning. (Mmm...full Irish breakfast.) Two or three more phone calls and then maybe an evening stroll to calm my nerves.