It’s been a crazy April — I wish it was over, already! Those samoa cupcakes (I promise, the recipe will come soon) were seriously the last best thing to come out of my kitchen. In March, no less. All my experimentation with new deliciousness has ended in failure this month — kind of how everything else is going.
It all started with the Toddler, of course. My husband took him out to go grocery shopping, taking the spare set of car keys with him. When they came home, Toddler went inside and I went out for (less than) 2 minutes to help bring in groceries. Toddler locked the door. Husband didn’t have a house key. You see the problem.
It’s kind of depressing how easy it was to kick in a dead-bolted door. The repairman sent out by our contractor fixed it so it would shut and lock properly, at least. The bolt receptacle for your deadbolt is apparently supposed to be fixed in place by 3″ screws, not 1″. Good thing whoever was responsible for that sucked royally at their job, otherwise, we would have had to call the fire department in to break the window. We tried with cobblestones and failed. So, score on window strength!
As totally awesome and humorous as that is looking back, I never want to do that again. Hide-A-Key will be installed shortly.
And then, of course, The Cat. To be specific, our special girl, Calliope. She decided to eat something… interesting.
She was not happy. I was not happy. But we’re all fine now.
So, after all this, I decided I would make cupcakes again. Some samoa cupcakes again. I wanted to make them to take to this really cool event happening downtown to revitalize a sketchy area. Well, to take to the people setting up for it, anyways. Lesson learned: hemp milk is not good in baked sweets. Just don’t do it. Toddler liked the cupcakes, because, hey, chocolate. I couldn’t stomach them. They didn’t deserve a topping and ended up in the trash. Which is cool. Totally cool. I gave up on the idea.
Still had an awesome time at the better block event. I finally got a photo of one of my favorite graffiti murals painted on a vacant building.
I ogled the temporary plants and traffic redirection and bike lanes. And chuckled crossing the street.
It was fun. I had fun. The Toddler had fun. The Husband had to work… but I’m sure he had fun there.
And then… Monday. The Toddler and I came in from playing in the backyard at about 3pm to the news about Boston. Does anyone else ever flash-back to 9-11 news coverage whenever some sort of tragedy occurs? The confusion, the speculation, the horror — it’s always there.
I don’t have family or friends in Boston, nor do I know anyone who was running the race. My heart still hurts for those who were injured or killed. Their families and friends. For those who live in Boston and the surrounding areas. And for runners everywhere, who find pure joy in crossing a finish line and feeling that sense of achievement, who will never again run that race without remembering those explosions.
I hope that you are all well, that you are safe and happy, that no matter what life has thrown at you or will throw at you, you have been and will be strong; when you can’t be, reach out. Love each other. Heal each other.
Blessed be. Namaste. Amen. Shalom.