Piece of Cake

A little blue monkey lives in my coat pocket.  He has a wide reassuring smile, which I rather like.  When I'm worried or anxious I put my hand in my pocket and rub his happy, rubbery, monkey head.  For some reason, this makes me feel better.  I've named him Bruce.

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Living in New England, I am fascinated by old stone walls.  No matter how deep into the woods I wander, I find them.  At one time, there were over 250,000 miles of stone walls in New England.  Most of them were built from 1775 -1825.  They were used for boundary lines to animal fencing. When a stone wall was finished being built it had to be inspected by an official called a fence viewer.  If the wall was found to be sound, then the farmer would not be liable for damages done to his crops by other farmer's animals. Over two hundred years later, these fences are still standing.  The fence we bought ten years ago is already falling down.

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Lately, I've baked a lot of cakes.  I will admit that I made most of them from a mix.  I like this old recipe for fixing up a cake mix:  to any cake mix add a package of the same flavor of instant pudding, along with 1 cup of water, 1/3 cup of vegetable oil, and 4 eggs.  Beat it for two minutes, then spread the batter into a well-greased tube pan.  Bake at 350 F for 50 to 60 minutes.  After the cake is cool, I always add a simple glaze made from powdered sugar and a little milk.  You can also add things to the batter like dried fruit, nuts, or chocolate chips.  The cake comes out very dense and moist.

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Many years ago, right after my grandfather's funeral, my uncle said to me, "You know what, Susie?  A month from now I won't remember the people who were here today, but I'll remember everyone who wasn't."  It's easy to keep track of our hurts.

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On one of my bookshelves I keep a bluejay's feather and a monarch butterfly's wing.  They are both as light as air; it would take only the slightest breath to blow them away.  I would feel sad if I lost them, I don't even know why, but I would.  This bookcase has glass doors.

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It's easy for me to know what makes me unhappy, but happiness is harder to know. It feels like sunshine and a soft cheek beneath my lips. It sounds like birds and the wind in the trees.  It smells like snow, and puppies, and a freshly made bed. 

It tastes like cake.