not the tbc

I helped make cookies yesterday! My friend wanted to make flower-themed cookies for her kids' teachers as a May Day gift, so I schlepped over to "help" (I mostly watched, since my baking skills are nil.) From kneading the dough (so buttery that just smelling it was satisfying) to painting the icing on ... it all reminded me how domestic, how artistic, I am not. I am horrifyingly disabled in the kitchen, which is sad because sometimes I have weird urges, like the time I wanted to bake a pie from scratch, and the time I didn't think making a Thanksgiving turducken was so very farfetched. If I ever don an apron in the kitchen, it really should read, "Somebody stop me."

<-- Sigh. Hope this is the last one of the year. Also hope this one makes it. It survived an afternoon and full evening under the zealous care of my friend's six-year-old son, so perhaps it's made of sterner stuff than the other babies. It's actually a pretty good flyer, except for the fact that it keeps flying into doors, mirrors, and walls. And this one, unlike Julius and Caesar, our bulbuls, will not eat from my hand. He sipped some water and ate some Baby Mum-Mum, but I don't think that's going to get him very far in life. But he seems hale and has the flap-flappy mechanism down, so I think tomorrow's the day. Maybe. We'll see. Please remind me, next time one of these flies through my door (or is deposited in my care by a child or coworker) that I am not allowed to name or talk to it.

Tomorrow's Friday! Super-sized efforts to finish everything in time for Monday, then the Swaziland-Lego party, then the grown-up party, then SLEEP. Woo!