Finished Product!!!

Here's a quick (albeit blurry) picture of the finished cake!

Let Them Eat Cake!!

The wedding cake. Angel wanted it to be huge. It didn't necessarily have to taste good, but it had to LOOK good. It was a challenge that suited my perfectionist disorder perfectly. So, in the past few months I have made a couple "practice cakes" and worked out some of the particulars of the whole procedure. The first issue was that she wanted it all covered in fondant. This isn't a problem except that once you cover a cake with fondant it can't be refrigerated. If you DO refrigerate it, when you take it out, condensation will mess of up fondant because the cake is cold and the air would be warm. SO, that meant that I had to use buttercream frosting, which is SUPER sweet. Then I thought that maybe I could use some sort of jam-type filling because that would make the cake more yummy - but it turned out to be too "squishy" and when the cakes were stacked, it mushed out of the middle and made a little bubble all the way around the middle of the cake. These are the types of things that you don't learn if you don't do a trial run...and luckily, there were lots of people willing to eat the test cakes.
I took two vacation days to make this cake. The wedding is on Saturday. Yesterday afternoon (Wednesday) I left work a little bit early and finished up the shopping so that I had all the supplies on hand before I got started. I had 21 cake mixes (a couple extra, guess I couldn't count!), 5 lbs. of butter, a huge tub of shortening, 20 lbs of powdered sugar, 6 dozen eggs and a giant bottle of vanilla, lots of oil. In addition I had wooden dowels, pillars, cake plates in 5 different sizes, a cake leveler (looks like a hacksaw), 7.5 lbs of fondant, and some gumpaste for the flowers. OK...off we go.

I started baking cakes on Wednesday night and got 6 of the 10 done, saving the largest 4 for the morning. Each layer needed to be baked separately because the pans wouldn't fit in the oven otherwise. While those were baking, I made about 300 light purple royal icing flower and let them dry overnight.

This morning I got up and baked the last 4 layers and let them cool. While those were going I was making batch after batch of frosting - starting with the smaller layers. Each had to be leveled with the cake leveler, covered in frosting, then the fondant needed to be rolled out and put on each cake. Sounds much easier than it is actually.Here are some more pictures of the progress...The layers are:8" - red velvet cake, 10" - yellow cake, 12" - white cake, 14" - chocolate cake, and 16" - strawberry cake.

And here are the finished cakes. I have to make little green leaves tonight so that they can dry overnight. Tomororw, Angel and I are going to get the ribbon that goes around the bottom of each layer. Then I will "glue" the little purple flowers and leaves on with icing, and arrange the flowers that go in between each layer in the center of the cake. On Saturday morning I am taking the disassembled cake to the hall to "build" it there. OH BOY! I'll take some more pictures at later stages. I should have a rather entertaining blog post after the wedding Saturday!

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Dear Jackass,

Dear Jackass (aka, ex-husband),

I got your voicemail this morning informing me that I could "just go ahead and keep the girls overnight on Saturday night instead of worrying about bringing them back." While I completely understand that the response you want is a "thank you - I appreciate it" - unfortunately (for you) my response is "the girls will be dropped off at your house around 9 and your sorry ass better be there."

Let me refresh your memory of the last few weeks and our discussions regarding my brother's wedding, that you have known about for over a year. The original plan was for me to pick up the girls (since it turns out that this weekend they happen to be with you) on Friday night before bed. I offered you "replacement time" which you said you didn't want. Okay. Two weeks ago when it was your week to have the girls, you called me and asked me to keep them overnight on one of my visitation days (instead of you picking them up at 8pm) and I said that I couldn't drop them off at daycare the following morning, but that you could pick them up in the morning. You called me every name you could think of and hung up on my numerous times. My simple issue was that I needed to be to work earlier than I could have dropped them off at daycare. Your argument was that you had worked on a case for a long time and needed to be at the police station when everything came to an end that particular night. I have no problem with this - but your "needs" are not more important to me than my needs...and the "needs" of the police department is your problem. Let me repeat - YOUR PROBLEM. I was more than willing to work with you on the schedule issue - but instead, you just said "fine, then you can't pick up the girls until right before the wedding and you have to drop them off right after." At this point, I expect you to throw tantrums like a 4 year old when you don't get exactly what you want - I expect that you are unable to compromise in any way to make things easier for the kids...becasue, as you said yourself, "it isn't about what they need, it's about what *you* want."

So, in response to your little hissy-fit, I cancelled the babysitter I had lined up for Saturday night and I re-arranged stuff that I had to do, which is not by any means minimal. Then, this past weekend you call me to tell me that I can once again pick up the girls on Friday night. Well, I can't do that now. I have made arrangements already according to your last tantrum. I will, however, make arrangements to pick up the girls from you early on Saturday morning so that you don't have to get a babysitter. I did this to try to C-O-M-P-R-O-M-I-S-E (look it up).

This morning's voicemail is really the final blow. I cannot keep changing my plans around your mood-swings. Now, all of the sudden, you have to work Saturday night - and I'm supposed to view that as *MY* problem? No, I think not. I realize that you think I'm just being a mega-bitch about all of this - but what you don't seem to understand is that there is a LOT of planning going on here and your bullshit affects more than just me. Everyone has had enough. I offered to attempt to find another babysitter for Saturday night but you were too upset at my "this is your problem, not mine" reaction to even bother listening to what I was saying. So - my response is this "screw you - the girls will be dropped off around 9pm at your house - your happy ass had better be there to greet them."

Once again, thank you for reminding me why I divorced you.

~Gretchen

Lazy Blogger

I'm afraid that it's time I admit to what you have been thinking. I'm an INCREDIBLY lazy blogger. I'd love to blame it on the up-coming wedding, and the preparations that go along with that...or on the kids that seem to somehow make time disappear almost instantly...or on my job that has become a mad rush to finish up experiments to get this damn paper finished...but that wouldn't be fair. After all, they could be worthy blog fodder. Instead, I am forced to just say, HELLO, MY NAME IS GRETCHEN, AND I'M A LAZY BLOGGER." I will try to do better.

Too Good NOT To Share...

Batman saves the day...

This tale begins on a very snowy day (the roads were terrible) in mid-January...(are you excited yet?? you didn't skip ahead to the pictures did you?? really, you should have more patience)...the girls stayed home from school, which meant I stayed home from work. I had been having pain in my abdomen off and on - sometimes just a weird ache feeling, sometimes lovely stabbing pains. I assumed, of course, that this was a result of my IUD being "not quite right." So, being the non-procrastinating person that I am (ok, you can stop laughing now) I called the doctor so that he could fix it. They just happened to have an appointment that afternoon. My lovely sister came over to watch the kids because I figured I might as well just go since I was home anyway and get it over with. I fretted all day about this appointment - thinking "oh no, I hope they don't have to take this one out and put another one in" and "maybe they can just adjust this one" - the point is that I thought the worst-case-scenario was dealing with the ouchies of them replacing the current IUD (not fun).

So, the doctor comes in, I explain the problem, he does the normal poking and prodding that the OB/GYN does and says "yep, the pain seems to be coming from your uterus." Oh gee, thanks doc...I knew that much already! He went on to say that there could be a few reasons for the pain (none of which were my IUD - CRAP!): it could be an infection, endometriosis, some other "osis" that sounded very similar; or uterine prolapse. He didn't think it was an infection but tested for it just in case - and the only way to figure out which of the other things it might be was to do diagnostic laparoscopic surgery. If it was either of the first 2 "osis" problems, he could take care of that while he was in there - if it was uterine prolapse (where the muscles holding your uterus up weaken and it "falls") then he would have to remove my uterus to make the pain stop. WTH??? I thought "holy crap, a little bit of pain and this guy wants to cut me open!" My alternative was to live with the pain - which was getting progressively worse. This all happened on a Monday - he wanted to know if I could come in on Friday to have it done. Uh - NO. That's not nearly enough time for me to worry and work myself up into a state of panic! So I scheduled it for the following Friday (since the jackass had the girls that weekend).

As you would expect, I completely freaked myself out - I've never so much as had a stitch and now they want to filet me like a fish! On top of that, if it was uterine prolapse (which wasn't unlikely since I had twins), I was going to lose my uterus. While it's true that I don't really want to have any more children, I still would like to have that choice! I'd like to keep all of my parts please, thank you. Not only did I have the surgery to freak out about - court was that week as well. The schedule was M-work; T-meeting with the lawyer to discuss the trial, eye doctor appointment for me and Olivia; W-custody trial; T-back to doctor to be double checked as "okay to be slaughtered" (goody, I passed); F-the mutilation was scheduled to begin at 9, had to be there at 7:30. By Friday morning I was just sick. Mom came over the night before and we went out to dinner - she stayed overnight and then drove me to the hospital in the morning.

Oh, did I mention that there was an ice storm Thursday night? Yep, everything was covered with a huge layer of ice - schools were closed all over the area, etc...Ok, off to the hospital we go, bright and early. I get there and get my oh-so-fashionable gown on, get my IV (could have done a better job myself-OUCH), then talk repeatedly to various doctors, nurses, and anesthesiologists. I make sure to tell them that anesthesia usually makes me very ill - so they give me 3 different shots of "stuff" so that it doesn't happen. Ok, shortly after all of that, off I go to the OR...the nurse has explained to me that they keep the room 20 degrees cooler than the rest of the hospital - and they sure weren't kidding. In the OR they make me move from the bed I'm on onto the operating table and then strap my arms down with velcro straps and cover me with a warm blanket. My doctor comes in and asks if I'm ready - complete with his batman surgical cap on...I said "oh boy, THAT gives me a lot of confidence" - joking about his hat - he laughs and says to the anesthesiologist "this one's mouthy - knock her out, would ya?" - and a few seconds later I was out.

The next thing I know - a sweet nurse is waking me up asking me if I'm in pain. It takes me nearly an hour to be able to hold my eyes open, and during that hour she put 3 shots of some sort of pain medicine into my IV. When I was a little more awake I asked for my Mommy and they let her come in. A little while later they gave me some ice - then some crackers and ginger ale. She was a nice lady. :-) I asked her when I could go home and she told me that I could go whenever I wanted...well, I WANTED. I could lay on my couch just the same as I could lie there, and it would be a hell of a lot more comfortable. The nice drug lady gave me a Percocet and I got dressed. I was outta there.

My apartment is about 10 minutes from the hospital...but knowing how I react to anesthesia, I brought a bucket just in case. ;-) We stopped and dropped off my Rx on the way home and just when we pull up to the drive thru, the ice-crackers-ginger ale contents of my stomach decided they'd rather be in the bucket. Oh joy. Bet that pharmacy tech wished someone else had answered the buzzer. Mom took me home and I changed into super-comfy jammies and passed out on my couch. At some point my mom must have left because when I woke up, she had picked up my Rx, a heating pad, and some vanilla ice cream (YUM). She set me up with something to drink, my heating pad, some crackers, and a bucket within reach and went home. There was no sense in her staying there to watch me sleep - so I finally convinced her I'd be okay by myself.

The following day I was still very sick - and we determined it was probably from the Percocet that my doctor had prescribed, so Mom called him and he called in a Rx for Darvocet...so my Mommy drove back out to Chardon, picked up my new Rx, and brought me some chicken noodle soup that she had made that morning. I love my Mommy. :-) For the next few days all I did was drug myself every 4 hours and sleep. On Monday I attempted to go to work, after all, it was only 3 tiny little pieces of tape and a belly full of gas (they "inflate" you so that they can see during the surgery - and the left over gas causes crazy pain in your shoulders...ouch). Mark picked me up because I was still very drugged. Oh, did I mention that there was a fresh coat of ice that morning as well. Mark had to walk me to the car like a small child so that I didn't slip and fall...pathetic. I actually got quite a bit done at work but was absolutely exhausted and in quite a bit of pain by the time we left around 2:30. On Tuesday I was still really, really sore so I called the doctor to make sure it was normal - he had told me I could return to work on Monday. He said that it was normal and he meant the FOLLOWING Monday - and that the cyst they removed was pretty big. So, I took up residence on my couch for the rest of the week. I was bored out of my mind. Daytime TV is terrible and I could never stay awake through an entire movie. The whole recovery period sucked.

But - I am back to work finally and all is well. I am still a little sore and get tired very easily - but overall MUCH better. The whole ordeal turned out to be so much more debilitating that I had expected. What a pain in the ass.

The pictures are of my uterus (the white thing), each of my ovaries (other white things), the cyst (black thing), and what was left after they removed the cyst. Mom said the doctor came out and showed her the pictures right after he finished the surgery and explained to her what had happened. He said that he also found some endometriosis and "cleaned that up" while he was in there. I should be all fixed now. Thanks Batman.

Coming soon...

...the heroic tale of my encounter with a knife or scaple of some sort and how I lived to tell the tale (minus one huge, icky-looking cyst) - and the batman hat that made it all possible. COMPLETE WITH PICTURES!!

I know, you can't wait...but tough, you'll have to - I'm sleepy and need a nap.