We all know about the list on Saturday. I was productive on Saturday. But I didn’t get through the list. Then there was Sunday! Another day to “get it all done”. Except, somehow my “get”, done left me.
Sunday afternoon and evening I sat here and wrote those first daft critiques that were “tardy”. I was ready to start my second-draft critiques, about 9 o’clock, but decided I’d write about my graphic life instead.
Monday was a work day. My biggest accomplishment was printing out 57 days worth of journal entries. Arriving home, later than I anticipated, because someone in the car-pool left their keys at the office, (NOT ME! I was driving), I wrote my journal entry, and went to bed.
Because I had ALL day today to finish my second-draft critiques AND write my 5 “reading journal” critiques, PLUS, my one author interview. Not to mention make a cake and whip out 48 mini-frittatas. But I had a WHOLE DAY!
I was going to manage my time. It was NOT going to manage me.
At five forty-five this morning I sent an e-mail to a friend exclaiming I’d already been up, showered, had breakfast, and made my bed. Nothing but easy writing until noon when I’d go to the store to buy a few necessary ingredients, for the Frittatas, and wrap up the cooking.
At eleven o’clock I was panicking. I had the first, second-draft, rewrite critiqued. I had outlined all the good stuff in the second, rewrite critique. Two more critiques, a cake, frittatas … oh – and all that other writing to go.
At twelve-thirty I was at the store. Home by one o’clock and making the cake.
The cake is quick to put together. I had it in the oven just before 2pm. Fifty-five minutes to whip out the second critique and start reading the third story rewrite, no problem.
The third story was so amazing – well told, and witty, and engaging, I didn’t want to stop reading. I kept hoping the timer would give me just a few more minutes to read. The timer went off. Just one more paragraph, I thought to myself, then I’ll check the cake.
Finishing the paragraph, I checked the cake. It needed few more minutes. I set the timer. I read a little more.
Ding! Went the time keeper. Stupid, dratted cake. I don’t want to stop reading! Tearing myself away from the philosophical dragon, I removed the cake from the oven.
The Bundt shaped cake. The cake that needs to cool, before its released from the pan, and is glazed.
A Bundt pan. A pan with a hole in the middle of it. Perfect for balancing on the neck of a bottle. A pan that will cool faster if it’s elevated.
Whirling from the stove to the counter, with a glass of wine in one hand, and a wine bottle from the recycle bin in the other, I thought to myself, “I’ll just stick this cake pan on the neck of the bottle, like I’ve done a hundred times before.”
Then, I KEPT THINKING … and INSANITY TOOK OVER MY COOKING KNOWLEDGE.
“That last Bundt cake didn’t come out so easily. I bet if I let gravity work FOR me, as it cools, it will release easier.”
Sure that I had DONE THIS BEFORE, AND IT HAD WORKED;
I INVERTED the cake onto the wine bottle.
The cake hung upside down, balanced on the wine bottle … gravity not quite working, until I brought my glass of wine to my mouth … and it was at that VERY MINUTE,
the cake chose to release …
from one side of the pan.
It’s amazing how long it takes to set down a glass of wine and make a grab towards a cake pan.
It is such a long period of time, that the unbalanced weight of the cake, half released, and half not, will tip over the wine bottle on the counter – and the cake, cake pan, and wine bottle will leap to their suicidal death off the kitchen counter.
Ker-splat, clank, clunk.
On the counter sat part of the cake. Peaking over the counter into the dining room I viewed the rest of the carnage.
There, was the lolling wine bottle.
The once round Bundt pan, now had a flat modification to its side.
And there on the floor, was a quarter of a cake, that all the kings horses, and all the kings men, could not put together again.
I was stunned. I was so stunned, I lost my wine glass.
This is INSANITY, I thought to myself. I do not have time to make a whole new cake! I do not have time to clean up this implosion. I do not have time to write 10,000 words in an hour and a half and make 48 frittatas. What AM I going to do?
So, I took stock. The cake that was left on the counter was in good shape, it was just missing a section. “Well, I’ll just have to deal with it and make it look “natural”, I thought to myself.
I slid the three-quarter section onto a plate, then inverted it back on the flat, non-tippable cooling rack. The bigger crumbs, that I could pick up in the dining room, I did so and deposited into my mouth and the garbage can.
I made the frittatas. I finished the critique. I tried to organize my portfolio. (Did I mention tonight was MY FINAL in my writing class?) So yes, I had a whole semesters worth of work that I needed to organize. And staple, and separate, and OMG it’s FIVE O’CLOCK, and class starts in thirty minutes.
And the cake, the cake is not looking so natural. It has not regenerated itself …nor has it shape-shifted back into a perfect ring.
I dashed outside, snipped some Japanese maple limbs and artfully arranged the “decorations” so they, and the cake looked “Natural”.
Then plated the frittatas, added some fall color to those plates too, hoping everyone would think I was SO CREATEIVE to have this FALL theme going on, and scooped up 101 papers, grabbed an unopened bottle of wine and dashed off for my final.
THEY, thought it was the most “zen-like” cake – EVER.