The Puzzle From Hello Kitty Hell

My friend from school is living a life of adventure with her daughter as a teacher in the far east. When she and her daughter recently went on vacation, they flew on EVA air which if you are a HELLO KITTY fan, you know as HELLO KITTY AIRLINES. No really, they have Hello Kitty planes.
She sent me a box of goodies, some from the plane (Hello Kitty Barf Bag anyone?) and some from a shop at the airport. We've been through most of it, but there was a puzzle I'd never opened and yesterday Julia wanted to work the puzzle. She's a fan of puzzles and I've been a crabby mom over this weekend so I said sure, let's do that.
It was when I opened it that I started cursing whatever deity Hello Kitty reports to.
I swore it said round. Round like a circle. No. It wasn't round. IT WASN'T ROUND AT ALL.

What it was, was a 3D puzzle. Do you know how hard it is to do this? AND KEEP IT TOGETHER? It's REALLY REALLY HARD. The plus size was, the kind people who made it also numbered the pieces and put on little arrows on the back to help you sort what went where.

You see it's an airplane. Although it was less of something to do together and more of something for her to watch Mom do. She pretty well thought it was awesome, and I let her put the stickers on the wings.

Playing with it? You can forget it. NO ONE IS EVER PLAYING WITH IT. Well at least not until we get some glue to seal it.

I'll get you Jennifer ! How dare you send me such a cute but hard puzzle !!
:)
Kidding, thanks. It was fun once I stopped grumbling.

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The Puzzle From Hello Kitty Hell

My friend from school is living a life of adventure with her daughter as a teacher in the far east. When she and her daughter recently went on vacation, they flew on EVA air which if you are a HELLO KITTY fan, you know as HELLO KITTY AIRLINES. No really, they have Hello Kitty planes.
She sent me a box of goodies, some from the plane (Hello Kitty Barf Bag anyone?) and some from a shop at the airport. We've been through most of it, but there was a puzzle I'd never opened and yesterday Julia wanted to work the puzzle. She's a fan of puzzles and I've been a crabby mom over this weekend so I said sure, let's do that.
It was when I opened it that I started cursing whatever deity Hello Kitty reports to.
I swore it said round. Round like a circle. No. It wasn't round. IT WASN'T ROUND AT ALL.

What it was, was a 3D puzzle. Do you know how hard it is to do this? AND KEEP IT TOGETHER? It's REALLY REALLY HARD. The plus size was, the kind people who made it also numbered the pieces and put on little arrows on the back to help you sort what went where.

You see it's an airplane. Although it was less of something to do together and more of something for her to watch Mom do. She pretty well thought it was awesome, and I let her put the stickers on the wings.

Playing with it? You can forget it. NO ONE IS EVER PLAYING WITH IT. Well at least not until we get some glue to seal it.

I'll get you Jennifer ! How dare you send me such a cute but hard puzzle !!
:)
Kidding, thanks. It was fun once I stopped grumbling.

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Time For Thanks and Family And Feeling Like Hell

A nice little trick of the endometrial ablation is that it leaves in tact all the mechanisms of PMS that make me a crazy person monthly. I don't really know when it's coming usually because I forget, but suddenly I'm in the grips of EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE IS DRIVING ME CRAZY and I realize, several hours in, that it's ME - not them.

The worst bit was that yesterday, a day I love and look forward to, I found I couldn't be happy. Everything was making my hair follicles hurt. Everything was making me nuts. Why couldn't everyone be quiet and leave me alone? Why didn't everyone understand that I was going crazy and they were contributing? Their joy earned my irritation. Why? Hormones, that's why.

I looked forward to making eggnog french toast which I did. I immediately did not care for it. It didn't even TASTE good. I felt like I was coming out of my skin all day.

I still don't feel well today. Some combination of stomach problems coupled with falling down the attic ladder because of a missed step and a dose of PMS have made today miserable. I'm trying Ringo.

The good things were, that I did in fact have my little people with the much awaited feast prepared by my amazing cook husband. I didn't feel like taking pics to share my joy but I felt it, at least for a little while.

The boy got his beloved turkey leg, and I made a sugar cream pie which was so rich and good I was instantly happy. Well, less unhappy. Let's not be crazy.
The best part, maybe, was when we decided to do a little light tree trimming. I had some very enthusiastic volunteers both days.

Watching their little faces and the amazing enthusiasm a tree with lights on it brings, well honestly, It was hard to maintain anything like a grumpy face.

I am thankful I have these little people to be crazy with PMS at. I am thankful my husband doesn't strangle me when I'm mad about everything for no reason, and cry all the time. And most of all, I'm just thankful.

Because I'm here, and that's as good as it gets.
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Time For Thanks and Family And Feeling Like Hell

A nice little trick of the endometrial ablation is that it leaves in tact all the mechanisms of PMS that make me a crazy person monthly. I don't really know when it's coming usually because I forget, but suddenly I'm in the grips of EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE IS DRIVING ME CRAZY and I realize, several hours in, that it's ME - not them.

The worst bit was that yesterday, a day I love and look forward to, I found I couldn't be happy. Everything was making my hair follicles hurt. Everything was making me nuts. Why couldn't everyone be quiet and leave me alone? Why didn't everyone understand that I was going crazy and they were contributing? Their joy earned my irritation. Why? Hormones, that's why.

I looked forward to making eggnog french toast which I did. I immediately did not care for it. It didn't even TASTE good. I felt like I was coming out of my skin all day.

I still don't feel well today. Some combination of stomach problems coupled with falling down the attic ladder because of a missed step and a dose of PMS have made today miserable. I'm trying Ringo.

The good things were, that I did in fact have my little people with the much awaited feast prepared by my amazing cook husband. I didn't feel like taking pics to share my joy but I felt it, at least for a little while.

The boy got his beloved turkey leg, and I made a sugar cream pie which was so rich and good I was instantly happy. Well, less unhappy. Let's not be crazy.
The best part, maybe, was when we decided to do a little light tree trimming. I had some very enthusiastic volunteers both days.

Watching their little faces and the amazing enthusiasm a tree with lights on it brings, well honestly, It was hard to maintain anything like a grumpy face.

I am thankful I have these little people to be crazy with PMS at. I am thankful my husband doesn't strangle me when I'm mad about everything for no reason, and cry all the time. And most of all, I'm just thankful.

Because I'm here, and that's as good as it gets.
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First World Problems Defined

There are those moments, usually moments of great need, when you turn on your coffee pot only to learn that it's planned obsolescence chip has activated and once again you must give Walmart or Target some of your money, IMMEDIATELY, to acquire a new one.

Since buying a Keurig I hadn't thought much about that being a possibility. I spent a third world country's GNP to aquire it, and the damn thing had better work as far as I'm concerned.

So you can imagine my delight when the other morning, I pushed the button and walked away - returning to find THIS.

OMG SCREW YOU KEURIG REALLY ?

Well it seems that our Keurig has gotten clogged by us making hot chocolate and other kinds of milky drinks in it. THEN WHY DO YOU MAKE THEM KEURIG? Grrrr.

So I ran hot water threw it a couple of times and got a better cup. My awesome husband seems to have sorted out he can put vinegar through it and we'll do that.

Seriously, I have an expensive, fancy coffee pot that doesn't like to make some of the drinks that make it fancy. NICE.

This is officially a first world problem. I think I should be ashamed to have it but I'm not.  At least I don't have to live in a world where my phone doesn't fit in my skinny jeans.
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First World Problems Defined

There are those moments, usually moments of great need, when you turn on your coffee pot only to learn that it's planned obsolescence chip has activated and once again you must give Walmart or Target some of your money, IMMEDIATELY, to acquire a new one.

Since buying a Keurig I hadn't thought much about that being a possibility. I spent a third world country's GNP to aquire it, and the damn thing had better work as far as I'm concerned.

So you can imagine my delight when the other morning, I pushed the button and walked away - returning to find THIS.

OMG SCREW YOU KEURIG REALLY ?

Well it seems that our Keurig has gotten clogged by us making hot chocolate and other kinds of milky drinks in it. THEN WHY DO YOU MAKE THEM KEURIG? Grrrr.

So I ran hot water threw it a couple of times and got a better cup. My awesome husband seems to have sorted out he can put vinegar through it and we'll do that.

Seriously, I have an expensive, fancy coffee pot that doesn't like to make some of the drinks that make it fancy. NICE.

This is officially a first world problem. I think I should be ashamed to have it but I'm not.  At least I don't have to live in a world where my phone doesn't fit in my skinny jeans.
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Round Two Again

Mammogram testing round two sends you to the hospital outpatient center, which was where I went this morning. You're supposed to be 30 minutes early, but I have to confess I wasn't feeling it. So I got there almost on time, and no one was waiting so it's not like it was a big deal anyway.

I verified who I was and was taken from this tiny room back to the bigger, ladies only section of the imaging center. This time I enjoyed a coffee, Lorna Doones and graham crackers, compliments of the Center for Women's Diagnostics.

That really is a superior shortbread cookie, in my opinion. Pecan Sandies are the worst cookie on the planet. This cookie opinion piece is off topic but it's the sort of stuff I was occupying my mind with while I tried to sort out if my locker bracelet thing would tighten (it didn't) and if there was anything to read (there wasn't).

I went back for the "better" machine to do a check of the right breast. The image from the previous center was up and I wish to hell I could've had an image of it. It looked CRAZY. I can see why they refer me if that's what they get with the FIRST machine. Huge white mass of ...MYSTERY. I mean it just LOOKS like doom.

The better machine apparently provided better pics however many were required. And more were required. And more again. Then I went back out to sit, and have more cookies, and wait. Then they come to say "Hi I'm here for your ultrasound" which I had suspected I was gonna have but didn't really know for sure.

After the girl slathered me up with goo and shoved a wedge under my shoulder, thereby dislocating it from what I could tell, and forcing my arm back in a direction it doesn't go, she got to work looking for whatever was in the mass of mystery. After about 30 minutes and my shoulder going numb, she told me she had to go get someone else to take a look, because she was new to this facility.

I didn't actually believe this lie. I thought "Oh hell here we go something IS wrong dammit." But an older tech came in, took one look at me and said "Let's get some towels under your arm, that has to hurt." I instantly liked her better. She started doing the tests again, and did the entire series over, but she TALKED. She told the other tech "This is a better shot, this shows that it's just it's just dense tissue. See that? Look it's an artery - that's nothing see? Ok look this is just dense tissue here. This is what he wants to see." etc.

In essence, SHE told me it's just dense tissue and I'm fine.  She even said "This all looks really good." and smiled when she left.

I have orders to go back in six months but this time they aren't "watching" anything and I don't need to go see the boob doctor. Which is good because he was kind of weird, I thought.

So I'm fine.

I intend to stay that way.
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Round Two Again

Mammogram testing round two sends you to the hospital outpatient center, which was where I went this morning. You're supposed to be 30 minutes early, but I have to confess I wasn't feeling it. So I got there almost on time, and no one was waiting so it's not like it was a big deal anyway.

I verified who I was and was taken from this tiny room back to the bigger, ladies only section of the imaging center. This time I enjoyed a coffee, Lorna Doones and graham crackers, compliments of the Center for Women's Diagnostics.

That really is a superior shortbread cookie, in my opinion. Pecan Sandies are the worst cookie on the planet. This cookie opinion piece is off topic but it's the sort of stuff I was occupying my mind with while I tried to sort out if my locker bracelet thing would tighten (it didn't) and if there was anything to read (there wasn't).

I went back for the "better" machine to do a check of the right breast. The image from the previous center was up and I wish to hell I could've had an image of it. It looked CRAZY. I can see why they refer me if that's what they get with the FIRST machine. Huge white mass of ...MYSTERY. I mean it just LOOKS like doom.

The better machine apparently provided better pics however many were required. And more were required. And more again. Then I went back out to sit, and have more cookies, and wait. Then they come to say "Hi I'm here for your ultrasound" which I had suspected I was gonna have but didn't really know for sure.

After the girl slathered me up with goo and shoved a wedge under my shoulder, thereby dislocating it from what I could tell, and forcing my arm back in a direction it doesn't go, she got to work looking for whatever was in the mass of mystery. After about 30 minutes and my shoulder going numb, she told me she had to go get someone else to take a look, because she was new to this facility.

I didn't actually believe this lie. I thought "Oh hell here we go something IS wrong dammit." But an older tech came in, took one look at me and said "Let's get some towels under your arm, that has to hurt." I instantly liked her better. She started doing the tests again, and did the entire series over, but she TALKED. She told the other tech "This is a better shot, this shows that it's just it's just dense tissue. See that? Look it's an artery - that's nothing see? Ok look this is just dense tissue here. This is what he wants to see." etc.

In essence, SHE told me it's just dense tissue and I'm fine.  She even said "This all looks really good." and smiled when she left.

I have orders to go back in six months but this time they aren't "watching" anything and I don't need to go see the boob doctor. Which is good because he was kind of weird, I thought.

So I'm fine.

I intend to stay that way.
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Soccer Warriors

The cold let up long enough for us all to go out to watch Julia's last soccer game of the season. For a day that started out at 26 degrees that was a pretty nice surprise.

She was one of the youngest on her team, most of the other girls were in Kindergarten, more mature for sure, and it was hard for her sometimes to understand that they didn't want to hold hands or hug all the time.  We're going to have to work on keeping our hands to ourselves before we go to school. But she came a long way this season, Suddenly midseason the girls were PLAYING soccer not just following one kid who could handle the ball. She even got some goals this season, on purpose!

The obligatory party afterward, with cupcakes and treats. Yes there were participation awards and while I am generally against those, I have mellowed a bit. Everyone gets one, everyone DID participate and we aren't shouting "You're a winner" so I think I am not being a hypocrite on this one. Mostly not being a hypocrite.

Anyway she's four. Who am I to tell her she's not a winner?
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Soccer Warriors

The cold let up long enough for us all to go out to watch Julia's last soccer game of the season. For a day that started out at 26 degrees that was a pretty nice surprise.

She was one of the youngest on her team, most of the other girls were in Kindergarten, more mature for sure, and it was hard for her sometimes to understand that they didn't want to hold hands or hug all the time.  We're going to have to work on keeping our hands to ourselves before we go to school. But she came a long way this season, Suddenly midseason the girls were PLAYING soccer not just following one kid who could handle the ball. She even got some goals this season, on purpose!

The obligatory party afterward, with cupcakes and treats. Yes there were participation awards and while I am generally against those, I have mellowed a bit. Everyone gets one, everyone DID participate and we aren't shouting "You're a winner" so I think I am not being a hypocrite on this one. Mostly not being a hypocrite.

Anyway she's four. Who am I to tell her she's not a winner?
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And Another Mammogram...And Other Stuff

I knew in my heart, after last time, that they were going to call me back. I had my first mammogram a few years ago, and then I got the OH SHIT COME BACK WE NEED TO SEE YOU call. I went every six months for screenings for what turned out to be dense tissue and a cyst which went away all on it's own. 

So I donned my pink gown (above) and went in for the ten minute process that was my mammogram. I grabbed a water from the fridge (they owed me the water for the indignity of the nipple stickers and the manhandling even though the lady was nice). I hurt and I was suddenly overcome with nerves. 

Getting a mammogram is the "let's see if you have cancer" test. When you get your pap smear they check for cancer and my doctor at least checks on your overall female health. But the mammogram is, at least to me, cancer or not cancer? That's more than a bit nerve wracking.

I can't completely blame the mammogram and the impending call, but I woke up at 4 am in excruciating pain, with what seemed to be an ulcer. My husband sat up with me while I waited for medicine to work and I watched the Smurfs with him. Eventually he put me back to bed.

When I woke up, I had the phone call waiting for me in my voice mail. "We need to see you at the Outpatient Breast Imaging Center" ...MONDAY. Yeah yeah I know the drill. Yes I know where to park. Looking forward to your snacks and beverages.  

I slept most of today, overcome with aching in my stomach and what I realize now is stress. I'll get referred back to the Boob Doctor as he's lovingly called. I shouldn't be stressed. Everything is fine. I'm sure it's fine.

I hope it's fine.

And Another Mammogram...And Other Stuff

I knew in my heart, after last time, that they were going to call me back. I had my first mammogram a few years ago, and then I got the OH SHIT COME BACK WE NEED TO SEE YOU call. I went every six months for screenings for what turned out to be dense tissue and a cyst which went away all on it's own. 

So I donned my pink gown (above) and went in for the ten minute process that was my mammogram. I grabbed a water from the fridge (they owed me the water for the indignity of the nipple stickers and the manhandling even though the lady was nice). I hurt and I was suddenly overcome with nerves. 

Getting a mammogram is the "let's see if you have cancer" test. When you get your pap smear they check for cancer and my doctor at least checks on your overall female health. But the mammogram is, at least to me, cancer or not cancer? That's more than a bit nerve wracking.

I can't completely blame the mammogram and the impending call, but I woke up at 4 am in excruciating pain, with what seemed to be an ulcer. My husband sat up with me while I waited for medicine to work and I watched the Smurfs with him. Eventually he put me back to bed.

When I woke up, I had the phone call waiting for me in my voice mail. "We need to see you at the Outpatient Breast Imaging Center" ...MONDAY. Yeah yeah I know the drill. Yes I know where to park. Looking forward to your snacks and beverages.  

I slept most of today, overcome with aching in my stomach and what I realize now is stress. I'll get referred back to the Boob Doctor as he's lovingly called. I shouldn't be stressed. Everything is fine. I'm sure it's fine.

I hope it's fine.

Time for a Mammogram

Alright I slacked off mightily. I was going every six months for two years because of a small cyst they were watching (it was nothing). But then I forgot. It seems I hadn't been for my annual in a couple of years and so that means I hadn't been for a mammogram. Oops.

I'll go back tomorrow. My prediction is I'll go tomorrow and then I'll get the OH SHIT call to come back because I need MORE tests with the different machine and we'll start the dance again. I won't freak out this time, I'll just go, and know that it's probably ok but they need to check because that's safe.

There isn't any breast cancer in my family, which means nothing except I'm not predisposed to it. I could get it. So I'll go and get my check and I'll do what needs to be done. My friend Michele Kocinski faced the bad news with amazing bravery, so I will use her as my example if I ever got such news.

I hate it. It's a pain in the ass. Yeah it hurts and it's embarrassing and weirdly dehumanizing to me. You have a stranger stick metal stickers to your nipples sometime, and manhandle your boobs like you aren't THERE and tell me it's not.

However, it's important. It's "this could save your life important". So I go. If for no other reason, than what you see right here.

I have every reason in the world to do it. So I'll go and I'll be glad I did, even if I don't enjoy it.
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Time for a Mammogram

Alright I slacked off mightily. I was going every six months for two years because of a small cyst they were watching (it was nothing). But then I forgot. It seems I hadn't been for my annual in a couple of years and so that means I hadn't been for a mammogram. Oops.

I'll go back tomorrow. My prediction is I'll go tomorrow and then I'll get the OH SHIT call to come back because I need MORE tests with the different machine and we'll start the dance again. I won't freak out this time, I'll just go, and know that it's probably ok but they need to check because that's safe.

There isn't any breast cancer in my family, which means nothing except I'm not predisposed to it. I could get it. So I'll go and get my check and I'll do what needs to be done. My friend Michele Kocinski faced the bad news with amazing bravery, so I will use her as my example if I ever got such news.

I hate it. It's a pain in the ass. Yeah it hurts and it's embarrassing and weirdly dehumanizing to me. You have a stranger stick metal stickers to your nipples sometime, and manhandle your boobs like you aren't THERE and tell me it's not.

However, it's important. It's "this could save your life important". So I go. If for no other reason, than what you see right here.

I have every reason in the world to do it. So I'll go and I'll be glad I did, even if I don't enjoy it.
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A Pool Party In November

I heard on the news this morning that there is a Polar Vortex of Doom coming our way before the end of November. I guess it's a good thing then, that our local park had a pool and pizza party for special needs families now, as we'd have all frozen running to our cars afterward were it later in the month.

I said to the family, everyone get in the pool so I can take your picture. Then they promptly went and got as far away from me as they could.

Jerks.
The loved it though and it was a great night for just swimming and playing with the family. I love watching my children when they are having so much fun that they can't stand it. The event was in the shallow pool for the safety of all of our special little guys. I think we were tied for loving the lazy river vs. the big slide. Louis love of the big slide was HUGE despite his initial misgivings. We laughed because he's now at that age, afraid of it - but once he does it, he's the king of it. He's going to love the water park this summer.

I had a big fail while I was there, and now I'm all regretting it and stuff. There was another family there at our table while we ate, they had what I thought was about an 18 month old baby. I kind of wondered what the babies disability was, but the whole place was full of disabilities and it seemed weird to ask "So what's wrong with YOUR kid? Let's tell disabled kid stories."
But as I was packing up, she asked me if the boy were autistic and so I said yes. She then asked me "So how did you know?"

I told the story, one I've told for years here. Then she says "He doesn't talk" motioning to the baby on her lap, which didn't strike me TOO odd as he looked like a baby still. And then she said "He's going to be three." Oh. Yeah. That's wrong.
I asked her if she belonged to Spectrum, I talked to her about how to join, and where she got tested (same place we did). She has him in Babies Can't Wait which is great so we sit and talked.
But then I failed, because I could've given her my contact info and I don't know why but I didn't. It didn't OCCUR to me. I should have.
She's at the start. She has in her arms a baby, a baby who is three. It's going to be so different and hard when that baby is five, and six, and seven. There will be progress but still she'll be reminded that her ten year old is still a baby, in so many ways. I feel really bad I didn't give her someone to reach out to, at least to remind her to contact Spectrum and join. We smiled and chatted about what he can do well, she told me can spell. I was reminded of Miles, who even now can read and write.

So we had an excellent evening, a perfect family evening of fun with cheap pizza and lemonade and swimming. That's the best part. Swimming and swimming and swimming. It was over too soon but it felt like it went on forever. At least, this morning that's how my body feels lol. Part of that was because I went down THIS slide more than once.

My body disliked it every time, man I don't take the jolts and bumps like I used to. Even better was when I hit the water the fist time, my boob popped out. Thanks for failing me swimming suit. It was dinner AND a show for those still eating. My solution was to go again. Why? Because YOLO.

Thanks for the party Bogan Park. It was excellent.

And Danielle with the three year old, I hope I see you posting on Spectrum. Because I'm going to reach out and say hi and give you my contact info. I'm sorry I didn't do it before.
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A Pool Party In November

I heard on the news this morning that there is a Polar Vortex of Doom coming our way before the end of November. I guess it's a good thing then, that our local park had a pool and pizza party for special needs families now, as we'd have all frozen running to our cars afterward were it later in the month.

I said to the family, everyone get in the pool so I can take your picture. Then they promptly went and got as far away from me as they could.

Jerks.
The loved it though and it was a great night for just swimming and playing with the family. I love watching my children when they are having so much fun that they can't stand it. The event was in the shallow pool for the safety of all of our special little guys. I think we were tied for loving the lazy river vs. the big slide. Louis love of the big slide was HUGE despite his initial misgivings. We laughed because he's now at that age, afraid of it - but once he does it, he's the king of it. He's going to love the water park this summer.

I had a big fail while I was there, and now I'm all regretting it and stuff. There was another family there at our table while we ate, they had what I thought was about an 18 month old baby. I kind of wondered what the babies disability was, but the whole place was full of disabilities and it seemed weird to ask "So what's wrong with YOUR kid? Let's tell disabled kid stories."
But as I was packing up, she asked me if the boy were autistic and so I said yes. She then asked me "So how did you know?"

I told the story, one I've told for years here. Then she says "He doesn't talk" motioning to the baby on her lap, which didn't strike me TOO odd as he looked like a baby still. And then she said "He's going to be three." Oh. Yeah. That's wrong.
I asked her if she belonged to Spectrum, I talked to her about how to join, and where she got tested (same place we did). She has him in Babies Can't Wait which is great so we sit and talked.
But then I failed, because I could've given her my contact info and I don't know why but I didn't. It didn't OCCUR to me. I should have.
She's at the start. She has in her arms a baby, a baby who is three. It's going to be so different and hard when that baby is five, and six, and seven. There will be progress but still she'll be reminded that her ten year old is still a baby, in so many ways. I feel really bad I didn't give her someone to reach out to, at least to remind her to contact Spectrum and join. We smiled and chatted about what he can do well, she told me can spell. I was reminded of Miles, who even now can read and write.

So we had an excellent evening, a perfect family evening of fun with cheap pizza and lemonade and swimming. That's the best part. Swimming and swimming and swimming. It was over too soon but it felt like it went on forever. At least, this morning that's how my body feels lol. Part of that was because I went down THIS slide more than once.

My body disliked it every time, man I don't take the jolts and bumps like I used to. Even better was when I hit the water the fist time, my boob popped out. Thanks for failing me swimming suit. It was dinner AND a show for those still eating. My solution was to go again. Why? Because YOLO.

Thanks for the party Bogan Park. It was excellent.

And Danielle with the three year old, I hope I see you posting on Spectrum. Because I'm going to reach out and say hi and give you my contact info. I'm sorry I didn't do it before.
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The True Story Of The Worst Cake

There are adages that would indicate that all cake is good cake. After all, it's cake. HOW could it be bad? I personally believed in this rather willingly until this past week. You see, my husband found a recipe and since it was almost his birthday I decided it would be PERFECT to try out this really yummy sounding recipe for his special day.
He's not a big fan of box cakes, or even CAKE for the most part, so I welcomed the idea of making him something special or different.
He found the recipe here.  It was originally published HERE. This is not an indictment of either site or their authors. This is however, a story of the WORST cake.

My first point of suspicion was that boiling was going to magically remove the bitterness from the skin but hey I'm not a home economics expert so I rolled with it. We followed the instructions and boiled, removed seeds, and pureed the tangerines.

First hint something was wrong, was this - it did NOT smell amazing. Meh is how it smelled. Taste? OMG it tasted like bitter death. BITTER FUCKING DEATH. It was gross. It wasn't like oh yum taste these tangerines, it was like THIS IS HORRIBLE.

We put it in the fridge overnight, as it said we could, hoping some sort of change would take place.

I was a good little baker and creamed the eggs and sugar properly. I folded in the dry ingredients so gently my mother would be proud.

And when it began to get more thick, I added the tangerine puree of death. After getting it blended it to perfection, we tried the batter. My hopes were, a lightly sweet tangerine batter.

It tasted horrible. The bitterness had not subsided. We added more sugar. And more sugar. AND MORE SUGAR. We continued this until we got a sweet tangerine batter with a hint of lingering bitter. It occurred to me that Alton Brown would tell me that I've now altered the chemistry of this cake and baking is a science and you can't do what I just did but I say I KNOW THIS ALTON BROWN BUT IT'S FOR HIS BIRTHDAY AND I AM OUT OF TIME!

I had this hope, at this point, that somehow baking was going to carmelize something and this cake was going to change. This cake was going to be amazing. It was going to work out. IT HAD TO WORK OUT.  I mean, chemical things happen when food is cooked. The properties change, things meld with other things, and so I felt like it was possible that something was going to happen to make this cake the AMAZING cake that had been promised.

I think my first clue that I had a problem was that the house never smelled good. I was promised amazing tangerine smells. It came out of the oven disguised as a proper cake. I dusted it with powdered sugar, wrote 46 in the sugar for his birthday and plopped on some candles. We sang and served cake.

I gave a gentle warning "There is a chance it's terrible. I'm not sure how it turned out."

He's sweet, he took a bite. And then looked at me and said "It's awful." He finished his piece while I took a tiny bite confirming it's status.

This is, in fact, the WORST cake ever made in our house.

We've discussed how we could change the recipe to make it not vile. It's a good recipe I think except for a couple of fatal mistakes that are insurmountable. It needs changed a bit so we might play with it. Maybe.

It was a lot of work for a terrible cake, I tell you what.
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The True Story Of The Worst Cake

There are adages that would indicate that all cake is good cake. After all, it's cake. HOW could it be bad? I personally believed in this rather willingly until this past week. You see, my husband found a recipe and since it was almost his birthday I decided it would be PERFECT to try out this really yummy sounding recipe for his special day.
He's not a big fan of box cakes, or even CAKE for the most part, so I welcomed the idea of making him something special or different.
He found the recipe here.  It was originally published HERE. This is not an indictment of either site or their authors. This is however, a story of the WORST cake.

My first point of suspicion was that boiling was going to magically remove the bitterness from the skin but hey I'm not a home economics expert so I rolled with it. We followed the instructions and boiled, removed seeds, and pureed the tangerines.

First hint something was wrong, was this - it did NOT smell amazing. Meh is how it smelled. Taste? OMG it tasted like bitter death. BITTER FUCKING DEATH. It was gross. It wasn't like oh yum taste these tangerines, it was like THIS IS HORRIBLE.

We put it in the fridge overnight, as it said we could, hoping some sort of change would take place.

I was a good little baker and creamed the eggs and sugar properly. I folded in the dry ingredients so gently my mother would be proud.

And when it began to get more thick, I added the tangerine puree of death. After getting it blended it to perfection, we tried the batter. My hopes were, a lightly sweet tangerine batter.

It tasted horrible. The bitterness had not subsided. We added more sugar. And more sugar. AND MORE SUGAR. We continued this until we got a sweet tangerine batter with a hint of lingering bitter. It occurred to me that Alton Brown would tell me that I've now altered the chemistry of this cake and baking is a science and you can't do what I just did but I say I KNOW THIS ALTON BROWN BUT IT'S FOR HIS BIRTHDAY AND I AM OUT OF TIME!

I had this hope, at this point, that somehow baking was going to carmelize something and this cake was going to change. This cake was going to be amazing. It was going to work out. IT HAD TO WORK OUT.  I mean, chemical things happen when food is cooked. The properties change, things meld with other things, and so I felt like it was possible that something was going to happen to make this cake the AMAZING cake that had been promised.

I think my first clue that I had a problem was that the house never smelled good. I was promised amazing tangerine smells. It came out of the oven disguised as a proper cake. I dusted it with powdered sugar, wrote 46 in the sugar for his birthday and plopped on some candles. We sang and served cake.

I gave a gentle warning "There is a chance it's terrible. I'm not sure how it turned out."

He's sweet, he took a bite. And then looked at me and said "It's awful." He finished his piece while I took a tiny bite confirming it's status.

This is, in fact, the WORST cake ever made in our house.

We've discussed how we could change the recipe to make it not vile. It's a good recipe I think except for a couple of fatal mistakes that are insurmountable. It needs changed a bit so we might play with it. Maybe.

It was a lot of work for a terrible cake, I tell you what.
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