It’s so quiet this morning. It rained in Paradise last night and the clouds are still dark and heavy with their moisture, blocking a sun that is trying hopelessly to shine. When the weather is like this, it always adds to the quiet, the cars on the street beyond our back wall not making their usual noisy early trip to where ever they venture on a Sunday morning.
The RTR is still at his cousin’s house, and the MoH is at an early morning draft session for a friend’s fantasy baseball team. Now you, too, know where to get a stand in when you just can’t schedule the time to draft your players for the upcoming season. The line forms to the left, please.
When I slid the paper from its plastic wrap today, entertaining the idea for the second time this week of lounging on the sofa with my coffee and actually reading it, I couldn’t help but notice the way it was organized. There was a huge “sale” advertisement wrapped around the entire paper, which is unusual, so of course, I had to investigate, wondering what the thinking is about how a Sunday paper is organized from one week to the next, and who makes that decision.
The “Baseball Preview,” a special section was immediately following the mattress advertisement, and sporting a huge image of the San Diego Padres’ logo formed with pennies, nickels, and dimes. The headline questioned the spending strategy for the Padres’ payroll over the past few years. Clever. The Arts section follows, then Passages, which has people focused stories about life, celebration, marriage, and obits. Then Insight, which has all the editorials, then the huge section of Classifieds.
The main page of the paper is buried at the very end. It’s what they usually do when something has happened in the world that might spoil a reader’s Sunday morning. After all, this is Paradise, and people don’t want to be bothered by what’s going on in the world. Or, better said, the publisher of the paper doesn’t think we do, and coddles those who take the time to complain about it.
So I haven’t read the paper. I might take a peek at my horrorscope, scan the classifieds for the perfect job that I could entertain myself about actually wanting for two seconds. Scan the photos of houses on the front page of the Real Estate section and restrain myself from calling to make an offer on the cute Spanish-style “replica” home in Coronado that’s selling for $3.5 mil.
Okay, so maybe not.
Because today is that day. The one where I spend quite a bit of time looking at and reading about other’s baking. This month, the challenge we were posed was anything but. It was a delight and the results were excellent. And if you’ve already looked at the photo and find yourself in the category of those who can’t suppress a thought such as, “I don’t like coconut,” do me a favor and try. Clearly, I do enjoy coconut. I also enjoy the blackberry jam, lemon curd, and mascarpone cream that is inside. What I enjoy most is putting it all together. I love the process. It’s soothing.
Although I enjoy a good cake, I don’t often bake it for the simple reason that there is far too much left over if I haven’t invited the neighborhood which I wouldn’t do because they’d think me odd. And so would you if you didn’t know me and I asked you to come sample my cake. It is a bit more appealing than the idea of my showing up at your door with leftover cake, imploring you to take it off my hands, though, isn’t it? So sadly, you can see that the cake becomes a waste of food. I am getting smarter about all of this, however, so did sample the cake, and sent the rest home with my middle son who promptly put a stickie on it telling others not to eat it.
I guess it caused a bit of a rucus with his father’s female companion, who from what my son has told me is a bit contrary to begin with. The last time my son took something home, his father ate it before he could, so this time, he thought a sticky might solve that problem. I get it.
But the idea of the cake with a sticky on it is hilarious.
He must have ended up with my ornery genes…