Domesticus Maximus

Yes, we are in week 4 of Momma Goes To Work and Buckaroo Goes To Daycare. My tummy hurts a bit if I reflect too much, but suffice to say we're doing pretty well. I like my job, it very unstressful. I think Buckaroo likes daycare. I certainly like Buckaroo's daycare. We are still very much in the tearful goodbyes stage. I am told repeatedly by various knowing persons that it is harder on the mommy. Ech, anyway. I'm just doing one-foot-in-front-of-the-other right now and will have deep thoughts for you later. Maybe.

What with the compensatory levels of t.l.c. for my babe, and the stomach bug we fought, I found myself offering too much of myself to the little stinker too often at night. Again. And I started falling apart. Again. My dear good consistent annoyed husband. Bless him. Anyway, we're on the right track again, after some tearful, fussy nights of truth for the babe. And, my point here, is that I found a bit of clear-headedness the other day and made a very good decision. And here it is:



I decided to make a cake. My maternal grandmother's chocolate cake recipe. Evidently she made this, like, weekly. I cannot imagine how pudgy I would be if that happened around here. Regardless, mine is most superb because I happened only to have dark chocolate cocoa in the house. It is ridiculously good. I've given a good deal of the cake to the neighbors because it would all be in my stomach if it were here. Or my husband and I would be arguing over it like 8 year olds.

Here's you facing a huge wall of superb dark chocolate cake:



I've commandeered Woodworker's camera and am feeling a sort of revival. I need to catch up on my memorykeeping here. But right now its time for Jeopardy. Good night.