How I Learned to Love The Draft

And to think, I almost didn't ride my bike today!

I caught up to it just past Wrigleyville (after scaring the pedestrians--they deserve it for walking backwards, drunk, into oncoming traffic), near Irving Park. There in front of me was a braid. From beneath a blue Specialized helmet cascaded a thick rope of light brown with generous streaks of silver. At the bottom of this 18 inch monster were gentle curls, as if the woman attached still felt the need to express some femininity. I'm not saying the woman in front of me was rough or manly, she just exuded woman power. Her age, I would guess, was 50. 55? No makeup. Simple pink t-shirt and khaki shorts, sturdy legs, and rippling triceps. They rippled. That's usually a word reserved for bulky trainers, or Olympic swimmers--physiques which she didn't possess, but I can't think of any other way to describe it.

We were still at this stop light at Irving, and after all of 15 seconds, she had already become my hero. I decided I needed a name for her. Jane Goodall. No, that's already taken. How about Dian Fossey? Dian went ahead on the green, and I stayed behind her. I learned from Wii Sports Resort that you can reserve power by "drafting," or riding right behind someone. That's probably a more useful device when traveling 40 mph, but I liked riding behind Ms. Fossey. At the Wilson light, I really wanted to tell her that she was a great alpha bitch, but I thought she might get offended. I mean, what if she was a granolian nun? Do those exist?

We passed Carol's Pub, approaching a difficult intersection. I have a tough time here, because there's a park to the west, traffic coming at you in four directions, wily children, and distracted parents parallel parking quickly because they're late for the game. This is an intersection where pushy bikers make careful bikers look bad. Many a cyclist flies through without hesitation. A mother with a stroller walks west as myself and Dian slowly creep north. The mother slows her pace, protecting her cub. What would Dian do? I'll tell you. She came to a complete stop and gave that mommy the go ahead. At this point, I decided Dian was a childless hippie woman who dedicated her life to helping orphans learn about nature. She didn't care about the new liquor and candy tax hike because all she eats is twigs and berries. While we waited for the stroller, I examined Dian's legs, free of spider veins and cellulite.

We rode on, passed young bikers, male bikers, road bikes, we were unstoppable. I knew this trip would be over soon. The urge to tell her she was a badass was overwhelming, but I couldn't express myself perfectly without the aid of my pottymouth. Would she be the type of woman who has a great recipe for oatmeal cookies? Or does she know how to change the oil in a 65 Mustang? Maybe she watches French documentaries. Oh, the fun times we could have together! But at the intersection of Clark and Ashland, near Gethsemane nursery, I almost lost her. For some reason, I let myself get hung up behind a very noisy Harley Davidson at a red light. Not Dian. She curled right around that large hairy man, and took advantage of the unspoken bike rules of the road, carefully advancing through that pesky red.

The stale green at Clark and Ridge was in my sights. I would have a chance to express my gratitude and admiration for Dian's braid, and legs, and ability to accelerate through a yellow light. This was it. A full, rush hour red light complete with green left arrows, and I said... I said nothing. There was room for both of us in the turn lane. I could have easily sidled up to her and at least said, "Nice pace." No, I chickened out. I was on the fence a little about going straight to the gym from work, but Dian pushed me in the right direction when I saw her bolt northward. My jaunt was done, her journey had probably only begun.

Go alpha bitch badass, go.

Stop Thief! Or, Just Go For It. Whatever.

Salads.  I've been really good about them.  I've also been trying to avoid buying lunch during work, because it's a real drain on the wallet.  So I schlep a piece of fruit and Tupperware of salad in my backpack, haul ass to work on my bike, and rush to get it in the fridge before it all wilts.  I keep a bottle of dressing in the work fridge all the time, and enjoy it when lunch time comes.  

Lately, though, my dressing has been dwindling.  It seems I'd get a few good squirts from a large bottle, and then poof!  It's gone.  For this reason, I quit buying nice dressing, and just going for the plain Jane Italian stuff.  Still, it moved like hotcakes.  Who was doing this?  I moved the dressing to a different shelf, and the entire bottle disappeared.  I needed a cheap, creative solution that didn't involve labeling, spitting, or a rent-a-cop.   I assessed my newest bottle of Italian dressing and decided to use that which was most obnoxious about modern groceries.  

The safety seal.  

That previously aggravating little blister of shrinkwrap/rubber/PVC, whatever it is, would be my rent-a-cop.  "But Crafty, how can you enjoy your Italian dressing if you leave the safety seal intact?"  I'll tell you.  I'll cut through that first blue seal on the cap, unscrew it, open the safety seal about halfway, and pour some out.  Then (learned this on MacGruber), I'll replace the seal, and screw the cap back on.  The first person who pops the top on the cap won't be able to get any dressing out, because the safety seal will prevent it!  Ha HA!  Surely after squeezing, struggling, and eventually failing, the perp will move on to an easier mark.  

A couple of days went by, and my plan was working beautifully.  I got to enjoy my dressing for more than a week, and I was feeling confident that my bottle would survive until I used the last serving.  Then the perp revealed him/herself.  I won't name names.  We'll call him/her "Blank."

  

While I sat on the couch knitting through my lunch hour, Blank walked in with a salad.  I was really only watching with my peripheral vision until the shaking started.  Shaking, lunging, struggling.  Then muttering.  "What the?  What is wrong with this thing," Blank murmured.  Blank then tried to unscrew the cap, but it was too tight.  Perps like Blank typically have no upper body strength, due to their lack of morals.  Rather than intervene, I watched in horror.   

"Give it up, Blankie.  Move on to another bottle," I thought.  As if there were no witnesses, Blank raised the knife and stabbed.  

"Urgh!" The dressing seemed to sigh.  Blank stabbed again, mercilessly.  "You win," my poor defenseless bottle whimpered.  Blank threw the weapon in the sink and squeezed the exhausted Italian dressing on his/her salad, which was probably stolen, too.  

There is no stopping lunch time larcenists.  It takes something stronger than a plastic seal to curb that behavior. It takes a defensive move like purchasing 175 1-ounce portion cups with lids.  I fill those babies up with delicious expensive dressing at home, and pop one in my daily salad.  No mess, no theft.  When a coworker recently complained to me that someone ate his chicken salad sandwich right out of the fridge, I asked him if he'd written his name on it, or had a special lunch bag to deter such offenses.  His answers were all no.  When I offered to knit him a sandwich cozy, he laughed it off as ridiculous.  

Amateur.  

For The Love of Concerts

It was tough, but I pulled the memories of 50 concerts I've seen. I guess I don't go to enough concerts, because I had to dig pretty deep to get this list together. Lists tend to bore me a little unless there is a nugget of information included. I will list 50 concerts and a fact about each. And I tried my best to list the order in which I saw them.

1. Ronnie Milsap - I was about four. Mom says I fell asleep and Ronnie Milsap kissed me on the forehead at the end of the concert.

2. Cyndi Lauper - Saw her once when I was 8, once when I was 28, and once again at 31.

3. Huey Lewis - 5th grade. I screamed so loud, the guy next to us plugged his ear.

4. Faith No More - 9th grade, Mike Patton suggested the audience "Jerk. Off. To. The beat," and my stepfather was horrified.

5. Robert Plant - Same concert as above. I had absolutely no appreciation for the rock royalty I was witnessing.

6. Nelson - Had tickets, but the show got cancelled. I was so ready for this concert, I feel like I saw it.

7. Deep Blue Something - College. I had a broken foot, and wanted so badly to go see them sing "Breakfast at Tiffany's." I started to limp out after that song, as did several other audience members. DBS turned the lights on and reprimanded the exiters, calling us Hootie and the Blowfish fans.

8. Robert Earl Keen - Age 19, at a 21 and up concert in a small bar in Santa Fe. Stepdad had to sign a waiver, but ordered me a rum and coke when we got to the table.

9. Eagles - Again, had tickets, but concert was cancelled. When the Eagles rescheduled months later, I listened to the show on the grassy field outside the NMSU football field.

10. Ian Moore - Opening act for the following two. They were out of tune, but I still love them.

11. Bryan Adams - Honestly, one of the tightest bands I've ever seen. Surprisingly, when Bryan sang, "Got my first real six string---------" very few people in the audience could finish the line for him.

12. Rolling Stones - And finally, the headliner. This was the VooDoo Lounge tour, and it was great, but I was really unfamiliar with their music before this.

13. Harry Connick, Jr. - Harry invited a male audience member to dance on the stage with him. The crowd went crazy, and Harry decided to let about 20 other people up there, too.

14. The Monkees - Mom took me to see them in Las Vegas, where I got an autographed novelette signed by Micky, Davy, and Peter. Then I saw them again in Las Cruces, when they performed for the Miss Teen USA Pageant.

15. Brian Setzer at Conan O'Brien taping - In line for Conan in 1996, we overheard that there was a former member of "Cats" on the list. When we sat down to watch, much to my surprise, I saw an obscenely plaid jacket backstage. I knew at that moment, we had heard the tail end of a rumor gone wrong.

16. Davy Jones/Bobby Sherman - Diablo stadium. I touched Davy's hand.

17. Fleetwood Mac - 1997, Houston, with my brother. Chris scored the tickets secondhand by telling a guy that his little sister played "Landslide."

18. Willie Nelson - Sandia Casino with Mom. He played EVERYTHING with no stops in between. His little sister banged away on the piano, and her long tresses obscured her face thoroughly.

19. Liquid Cheese - Great local ska band in Las Cruces. You cannot help but dance the whole night.

20. Arrogant Sons of Bitches - I think these guys opened for Liquid Cheese at El Patio? They were fun, and played a Radiohead cover that was totally rad.

21. Ten Tenors - no, not three, TEN! - Donnie, Megan and I (and possibly a few others I can't remember) went to see this Australian group in El Paso. They went from Puccini to the BeeGees seamlessly.

22. Bob Schneider - Ashlee forced me to go see this guy at Schuba's. I wasn't interested. Until the moment he stepped onstage. Possibly the quickest I've ever fallen in love with a performer. Ask Ashlee to do her impression of me dancing, looking over my shoulder, and smiling at her the first time I saw Bob. Subsequently saw him at Martyr's, Double Door, and the Metro.

23. Jason Mraz - In 2003, Donnie called to tell me Jason Mraz would be performing near him in Cleveland. I happened to have a couple days off. I jumped in the car and drove alone from Chicago. Jason was magical, although his audience, I could have lived without.

24. Raul Midon - One of Jason Mraz's openers. Blind R&B guitarist/singer. We waited outside the concert to meet Jason, and after about 20 minutes, here walks Raul with his assistant. He had mentioned that he was from New Mexico during the concert, and we shared our New Mexicanness with him. He stood and sweetly talked to us for a long time. Jason never came out, but we didn't care.

25. Ben Lehl Band - Hot Cakes. That's all I have to say.

26. Lyle Lovett and his Large Band - 2004, Marky came to visit me in Chicago. Jonathan, Ashlee, Marky, and I sat in the grass at Ravinia for Lyle. I got my first chigger.

27. The Roots - Rieckelman and I drove 1 1/2 hours in the torrential rain to Milwaukee to see Summerfest. We stood on the bleachers, and the rain was so bad it was like taking a shower. That's probably why the guy next to me got completely naked.

28. JC Chasez - 2004, Isaac came to visit Chicago, and we saw JC at the House of Blues. JC, screwed up the words to "Dear Goodbye," blaming it on his mom's presence in the audience. It was adorable.

29. Maroon 5 - Adam Levine traded places with the drummer, and they performed "Highway to Hell."

30. John Mayer - Headliner for Maroon 5. Stage lighting so beautiful, I wanted to cry. Chum Chums smuggled a cigarette into the Pan Am and shared it with me.

31. Gogol Bordello - Bar none, the worst show I've ever been to. Don't lay a trip on me. It SUCKED. We walked out after one song.

32. Robert Bradley's Blackwater Surprise - Robert Bradley is a dirty old man. First show I ever saw at the Double Door.

33. Joseph Arthur - Got to the concert VERY late--only heard the last song. Second show I saw at the Double Door.

34. Persistance - 2005, Andy's Jazz Club. Before I joined the band.

35. Etta James - Ravinia. She doesn't have the chops she used to, but it was great to hear her live.

36. Tom Jones - When Tom Jones walked out on the stage after Etta, the place got a little hotter. He was solid as a rock.

37. Linda Eder - Did you know that people walk up and put quarters on the stage throughout her show?

38. Bernadette Peters - Bernie's husband died just days before this show. I don't know how she got through "Being Alive" without collapsing.

39. Everyday People - A friend at work turned Kelly and me on to this Austin band. "I'm a regular nine to fiver, a coffee and cream survivor." That's us!

40. Rodriguez - Sheppy and I saw this show on October 28th, 2006 at the Sav-Mor Lounge. They played the entire Thriller album.

41. The Swell Season - This was the first time I had fun after Marky got sick. I felt simultaneously guilty and exhilarated. It was like going to church. I lost my nerve when Glen Hansard asked the audience if someone would be willing to come on stage to help him sing the song from "Once." I'll never forgive myself for passing up that oportunity. Glen is far and away the most gracious performer I've ever witnessed. He said "Thank you," probably 43 times.

42. Jamburglars - Chum Chums and I saw the tail end of Danny and Scott's band at El Patio after seeing "Enron: The Musical" at NMSU.

43. Mike Doughty - 2007, Marky and I sat in the upper level of the Vic and enjoyed being adults. "Fort Hood" is really great live.

44. Tegan and Sara - Their music has never made much of an impression on me, but their banter is hilarious. One of them admitted she had diarrhea for an entire year.

45. B-52's - A main attraction at the True Colors tour. They did all the favorites, and Kate sounds and looks great.

46. Bumpus - Matt suggested I see this band for the backup singers. I told Kelly, and she jumped at the opportunity. We saw them at Martyr's, and I can't wait to see them again. I talked to one of the backup singers after the show, and got completely starstruck. Kelly had to talk for me.

47. Tina Turner - FINALLY, MY IDOL!!! United Center, October 2008. I bought tickets for me and mom as a surprise. Chris and Monica got tickets for me as a surprise. Oops! We all went together and successfully scalped one of the extra two tix. Tina was outstanding. I cried through the first four songs, and was thankful no one saw.

48. Liza Minnelli - I finally saw Liza at the Venue in Horseshoe Casino in Hammond, Indiana. She is masterful at phrasing. And she sat on a stool for most of the performance, wearing a headband.

49.Elton John - My first time at Wrigley Field. Won the tickets at a karaoke contest (I was the only contestant, so I never actually had to sing anything). His sunglasses were very demure, with a simple rhinestoned "EJ" on each lens.

50.Billy Joel - Same concert as above. I fell in love with "Zanzibar" this night. Billy swatted at flies all night like a lunatic. He was one of the most engaging performers I've seen. He let his roadie sing "Highway to Hell." Deja vu.

The Blessing of I Forgot

First, thank you, Amanda for providing the title of today's blog.  

Marky and I had a salmon dinner, a glass of wine, we're playing Wii Sports Resort, and are singing songs about Cameltoe Rock and Wedgie Island.  We're debating whether to bike, play tennis, or drive out to hike Starved Rock tomorrow.  We're normal people.  Better than normal.  Today is Tammy Faye's second birthday, and it's a total non-issue.  Yes, there are 12 prescription bottles on the coffee table, but we've both gotten used to it.  Yes it's a financial drag, and yes, tomorrow is another day.  But we're here today, and it's a beautiful thing.  

There have been a couple of signs.  I've been looking for them a little, but one should.  We looked for a symbolic bottle of wine tonight at Dommie's.  Marky found something that said "Anniversary" on the label.  Good enough.  As we put it in the basket, I noticed it was a 2007 wine.  That's Tammy's year!  Even better.  This afternoon, as I walked past an ultra-colorful/non-denominational/humorous church on Broadway, the marquis read, "I always say shopping is cheaper than a psychiatrist," Tammy Faye Bakker.  Just a little nod from the namesake.  

Really, that's it.  We both sat down to dinner, and had to stop to remind ourselves of the importance of today.  Honestly, I forgot about Tammy Faye's big day until late this afternoon.  It's a weird anniversary to celebrate, the life of a kidney.  But we have a lot to be thankful for, and fortunately, the time to do it.  

Recital Announcement 1999?

This is a story about Bree Del Campo and her tale of Cecilia Bartoli, the beautiful, talented mezzo soprano. Bree was talking to a group of nice, but impatient senior citizens after a recital of folk and old pop favorites. Relating to them that her second favorite day of the year, after her birthday, is the day before Valentine's, February 13th, she went on with some of her best stories until the hour of 7:00PM, which is near the retirement village's bedtime. Her last story, she though, would thrill the group because it was the wild but true anecdote of Shanelle Jernigan playing piano for Cecilia, or Chi Chi, as friends call her. The crowd began to get restless as Bree told that last tale, Of course, Kerry Alt, packed the guitar and amplifiers away as Bree finished the hilarious story. The final act to get to the village was the unlucky soloist John Pleasant with his clarinet, who realized too late that the once benevolent retirement village had now tuned bitterly sleepy.

From the look of the dissatisfied elderly patrons, she could tell she should go back to her old art studio and paint some pictures because she could not possibly make a halfway decent living out of telling Chi Chi stories. Later that evening, the university college professor Christine Sanders told her in a phone conversation that it would be a good idea, so she stayed home and forgot about telling stories, and stuck to her music and art.

After the frightfully icy reception from the senior citizens, Bree was quite delighted and relieved that she decided to follow her instinct as far as art was concerned. She learned not to tell even a hilarious yarn in the most acoustically inept room in Las Cruces without an amp and a decent microphone. Bree has finally regained her dignity and paints with a wide variety of green in her room.

What a Tool!

A friend gave me two pounds of fresh cherries.  They are sweet and beautiful, and I wanted to give them a proper burial in my tummy.  So here are the two recipes in which they had a starring role, and the third recipe is what you should drink while baking:

Cherry Almond Focaccia (Tyler Florence's original version here)

Ingredients:

• 
  
  
  
  • 2 teaspoons rapid-rising dry yeast
  • 1 cup warm water
  • 2 tablespoons sugar
  • 3 1/2 to 4 cups flour
  • 1 tablespoon coarse salt
  • 1/4 cup olive oil
  • Fine ground almonds for dusting
  
  

  Toppings:
  • 1 cup fresh cherries, pitted 
  • 1/4 cup sliced almonds
  • 1/4 cup coarse sugar
  
  

  Directions
  You really don't know the beauty of a cherry pitter until you are staring at two pounds of cherries, thinking about how this tedious paring knife task could ruin a perfect summer day.  Mine was $9.99 from OXO.  It's a fun tool to have in your arsenal, and it works on those pesky Kalamata olives, too.  Follow the directions on the label, and beware stray pits.  
  Proof the yeast by combining it with the warm water and sugar. Stir gently to dissolve. Let stand 3 minutes until foam appears. Slowly add half of the flour to the bowl. Mix with a fork.  Dissolve salt in 2 tablespoons of water and add it to the mixture. Pour in 1/4 cup olive oil.  Add half of the remaining flour until you have a nice doughy texture. Mix with your hands until the dough is smooth and elastic, about 10 minutes, adding a little more flour as necessary.
  Turn the dough out onto a work surface and fold over itself a few times. Form the dough into a round and place in an oiled bowl, turn to coat the entire ball with oil so it doesn't form a skin. Cover with plastic wrap or damp towel and let rise over a gas pilot light on the stovetop or other warm place until doubled in size, about 45 minutes.
  Coat a sheet pan with a little olive oil and almond dust. Once the dough is doubled and domed, turn it out onto the counter. Roll and stretch the dough out to an oblong shape about 1/2-inch thick. Lay the flattened dough on the pan and cover with plastic wrap. Let rest for 15 minutes.
  Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Uncover the dough and dimple with your fingertips. Brush the surface with more olive oil and then add cherries, almonds, and sugar. Bake on the bottom rack for 15 to 20 minutes.
  Cherry Almond Ice Cream  
  
  Ingredients:
  • 
    
    • 2 cups half and half
    • 1 cup whole milk
    • 3/4 cup sugar
    • 1 Tablespoon vanilla extract
    • 1/4 cup fine ground almonds
    • 1 1/2 cups fresh cherries, pitted and chilled
    • Slivered almonds for garnish
    Directions
    It's best to use very cold ingredients.  An ice cream maker is fun to use on a hot day, but can be very disappointing if your ice cream never tightens up.  Also, feel free to substitute heavy cream for the half and half if you prefer a creamier texture. By that same token, you can use skim milk and sugar subsititute for a light ice milk dessert.  Yum.  
    In a large mixing bowl, whisk together half and half, milk, sugar, fine ground almonds, and vanilla extract until sugar is dissolved.  Add mixture to the bowl of an ice cream machine and blend until frozen.  Add most of the cherries to the mixer, reserving a handful for a topping.  Blend until cherries are incorporated.  
    
    Pour ice cream into a 2 quart Tupperware.  Smooth the top, and dot the surface with cherries and almonds.  Place in the freezer for 2 hours, then enjoy!
    
    
    Four Plus One
       
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    Ingredients:
    • 3 cups lemon juice

    
    

    
    
  • 
    
    • 1 cup orange juice
    • 1 cup lime juice
    • 1 cup grapefruit juice
    • 4-5 sprigs of mint
    • 3 cups water
    • 3 cups sugar, plus a tablespoon for muddling
    • 750 ml citrus vodka
    
    

    
    
    Directions:
    You will need a LOT of citrus fruit to make this drink.  If you want to just add voddy to orange juice concentrate, be my guest, but trust me, your party guests will never forget this drink if you do it from scratch.  Also this is a chance to learn the beauty of simple syrup.  Make it ahead of time and chill it.  
    Simple syrup:  In a medium pot, add 3 cups sugar and water.  Boil until sugar dissolves, stirring occasionally, remove from heat and chill.  
    Pull the leaves off the mint stems, reserving a couple pretty leaves for garnish.  Place the mint and the remaining sugar in a cup or small bowl.  Commence muddling.  Use a proper wooden muddler, or the handle of a wooden spoon.  Dump green mixture into a metal strainer, hold over a large jug, and pour the simple syrup through.  Go slowly.  When you are done, press the last of the minty goodness through the strainer.  Discard green junk.
    Add citrus juice, vodka, and serve over crushed ice.  Try not to fall over.  
  
  

What's the Statute of Limitations for Pansy Theft?

I just love cupcakes.  They're cute, portable, suitable for all occasions, and they make people smile.  Really, I like making the cupcakes more than eating them, which recently led me to improving the recipes, and not focusing so much on the decorations.  My decorations are stellar, though, and I'm sure that if the cupcakes tasted like crap, people would hardly notice because of the distracting art.  In fact, the art has been so distracting, people haven't come close to imagining where the art came from, or the horror each cupcake endured to become a dessert.  

Let's start with the fact that I'm incredibly frugal.  The designs I create are usually the result of some improv work in my pantry.  Whatever I can beg, borrow, or steal, I do.  My secret thrill in cupcake making is creating something fabulous for pennies.  Several years ago, while deciding what to bring to an Easter dinner, I remembered seeing Martha sugarcoat nasturtiums and Johnny Jump Ups.  I hatched the plan.

Gorgeous devil's food cake, dark chocolate frosting, superfine sugar, egg whites, and pansies.  Easter was days away, and all I needed to do was get my hands on some flowers.  Living in an apartment, I didn't have a garden of my own.  I looked in the produce section, but the only flowers I could find were floppy and ridiculously expensive.  I could go to the nursery, but I didn't have time for plants to grow.  I needed them immediately.  

And then the deviance started.  

There was a house.  There were pansies that wouldn't be missed.  Pleading the fifth amendment, (although I feel I have already paid for my sins), I will not reveal the location or owner.  Shaky-handed, I entered the yard, and snatched dozens of pansies in every color.  Stealing was surprisingly easy.  And it was the first and last time I ever did it.  Swear. 

 I went home and rinsed the blooms, clipped the stems, brushed each petal tenderly with egg wash, sprinkled the glistening sugar, and let the beauties rest in the fridge overnight.  The next morning, I peeked in the fridge, and the flowers looked amazing.  They had curled up a bit, and were dry enough to do their duty in my gastro-artistic plan.  I baked, cooled, and frosted the cupcakes.  Then applied the flowers.  It was the loveliest treat I had ever made.  Right out of a page in Living magazine.  I would surely put this on my resume to Martha.  Looking back, it might not have hurt to mention my criminal background.  

I took pictures, fawned over the cupcakes, tried them out on several platters, to the point that I was making myself late for the Easter engagement for which they were intended.  Finding the perfect platter was a chore, but how to cover them?  Saran wrap was far too confining.  I didn't have a cake stand cover, but I did have Marky.  He could just hold them for the 45-minute drive to El Paso.  Doing my best imitation of June Cleaver, I picked up the platter, swung around to hand them off, and *SLIP*!  

Face down.  All 24 cupcakes.  On the carpet.  We didn't even make it out the door.  I stood there, not breathing.  Marky started picking them up.  After all the picture taking and time wasting, by the grace of Duncan Hines, the frosting was already dry, and didn't leave a trace on our carpet.  And the miraculously vacuumed carpet did them the same favor.  The pansies, however, were smushed.  All the effort to keep the petals curly and light, trashed.  Obviously this was cupkarma for stealing.  I accepted the once delicate statues as bas-relief, and placed them back on the platter.  With Saran wrap.  As we drove, I tried to rationalize not telling my family they would be eating food off the floor.  I would have to tell someone.  Mom could keep a weird secret.  As we walked in, I whispered my confession to her.  She took one look, and assured me, "They'll never know."

Dinner was lovely, and the time had come to unveil my stolen, soiled treat.  I walked to the kitchen, unwrapped the platter, walked to the table, and *SLIP*!  All 24.  On the carpet.  For all to see.  

Don't steal, and don't deceive your family.  Or this'll happen to you.