A carrot cake, a six pack and thou?

The other night when I was at the Shingle Mill, a friend and I were talking and she said she was throwing a small 'thang' Thursday night (tonight) for her boyfriend's fiftieth birthday at the Drift Inn (the Shingle Mill is our 'home bar' but there are many others in the area that are frequented by locals). She asked if I knew anyone who makes cakes "Not chocolate or vanilla-something kinda different." Without really thinking, I blurted out "I make a mean carrot cake!" I was 'hired' on the spot.


I decided to make it here at the house as this is where the larger kitchen appliances (i.e. the food processor) live and also because if I bake anything at the houseboat, one end ends up twice as high as the other. (Evidently we are listing more than just a wee bit.) Of course there is no perishable stuff here since Alex is staying at my Mom's, so this involved several trips back and forth to the houseboat for things I forgot the FIRST FIFTEEN times: left the cream cheese on the counter, the pecans in the freezer, the eggs in the fridge, the vanilla in the spice rack-you get the picture. On my last trip to get THE FARGING DRIZZLE OF MILK I needed to make the icing, my neighbor stopped me on my way in and said "Oh, by the way...I ran into you know who and she's been up all night and she and her old man are 'at it' and she said if I see you to tell you to FUCK THAT cake." Fuck. Me. Running.

Don't get me wrong-I love carrot cake. But when the Unit heard that I was making one he said that just that morning he had been thinking about having me make him one. So I got enough crap to make two. The prollem is that I just made a pan of brownies that I have studiously ignored during the day, but that somehow keeps getting smaller and smaller each night, usually after a few big girl drinks when my inhibitions are low. Not getting any sex-might as well eat (at least that is how I imagine the conversation with myself goes-fortunately, drinking said big girl drinks leaves me suffering from selective amnesia, wherein I remember I had fun fun fun but forget all about the brownie edges and pack of peanut butter crackers whose wrapper I found on my nightstand.)  So you see my dilemma-I have brownies haunting my evenings already, and if I add a carrot cake which I will feel compelled to *clears throat* get rid of in anticipation of the FRESH one I will be baking for the unit Saturday morning, I am not gonna be able to squeeze my fat arse into my Awful Waffle outfit for his homecoming. Or the jeans I just got that make my butt look so fabulous that I felt compelled to do much posturing and unnecessary bending all over in Walmart whilst purchasing ALL MY FUCKING CARROTS.

Anyone want some dessert?

Flooded in. Again.

Oh shit oh dear.

I was awakened at 7:30 this morning to my neighbor informing me that I'd better get up and get my truck out of here.  I looked out the window and saw that the river is flooding again, and my driveway and planters were already completely underwater.  Dammit janet, when is this gonna end?  I thought I had already declared my hurricane season to be over?  I put my boots on and drove up to high ground and waded back here to the houseboat wondering if I should have put the birds in the truck and just gone to the house.  Now it's too late, unless I slog through water up past my knees carrying bird cages and my computer.  To add to my dilemma, I went outside a few minutes ago and noticed that my southernmost stanchion looks like it is collapsing toward the bank.  My neighbor is trying to brace it up, and I am tied off to seven or eight trees/other stanchions, so I'm not too worried about it, but I made the mistake of emailing Johnny about it, so now he is going to worry about it until he gets home.  Sneaky passive aggressive move, if I'm being honest.  Share the suffering.  *snort*

Anyone know a good bird sitter?  I need someone willing to come stay at the houseboat so I can go see Ronny and Jamie in Dover next week.  The birds require about an hour of actual care a day, and provide hours of entertainment, what with talking about boogers and such.  Perfect setting for artistic types-I wish I could paint, because it truly is beautiful out here.  And having the Shingle Mill 400 feet from the front door doesn't hurt either.  Beer, birds, boating...any takers?

Uckfay emay.  I heard a motor so I went outside to see what it was and it was a tractor pulling cars and trucks out of the other end of the parking lot.  I decided maybe I ought to go move the truck out of the parking lot and up the road a bit, but before I could get my boots on, a feederband started letting loose on us and drove me back inside.  Now the wind is blowing like a son of a bitch and the boat is pitching around and I'm beginning to feel rather Dorothy-ish.  This bites, and we are only under a tropical storm warning (which I was not aware of when I went to bed last night-as I said, I had already declared my hurricane season over so I was not watching the farging weather channel 24/7 anymore).  Now the power is flickering, so I am going to post this before it goes out completely and I'm without internet.  Thank God for my Iphone.  At least I hope it will work.  Of course I'm new at this, so I don't know how to update from my phone, but at least I should be able to look at weather reports, etc.  Again, I hope!