Dragées: things I learned on “Ace of Cakes”

The proper pronunciation of “dragées”, for one thing. I thought they were the coolest thing ever, when I was a kid: little silver or gold balls of rock-hard sugar, with the caution do not eat on the side of the bottle. Still not sure why that warning is there; possibly to keep dentists from having to work overtime? Rebellious urchin that I was, I ate them anyway.

I called them drugGIES, not knowing any French at the time and not thinking about it once I could sing along with Sir Paul on Michelle and know what he was saying [which was not much; it was a love song, and the Sixties]. They are, apparently, druhZHAYZ. And I think I will put them on my grocery list for the next time I crave persons-of-gingerbreadness.

I also learned this weekend that cake decorating is exhilarating, stressful, and can involve a large number of childbirth words with much bleeping. I have decided that “Ace of Cakes” is an important part of recuperating from respiratory issues.

The theme music is quite effective in helping one pick up oodles and oodles of stitches around the armscye of a Noro sweater for dolls; I imagine it would be equally effective in helping one to navigate miles and miles of stockinette for a sock or the body of a plain vanilla sweater.

My appetite returned yesterday with a vengeance, making up for the fact that I hardly ate on Saturday. Three half-slices of applewood-smoked bacon accompanied by three eggs, over easy. A whole-wheat English muffin with a whisper of butter but no jelly. Apple juice, nuked in the microwave and savored while knitting. Apple oatmeal, which was even better than just the warmed apple juice. Two white chocolate brownies, eaten several hours apart. A PBJ. A mug of milk. The last dab of corn soup.

And in the boldness inspired by watching nine hours of “Ace of Cakes”, I made a potentially difficult phone call, one that I wished a friend of mine had made several years ago. The former spouse of one of my friends has invited me to lunch. And I am willing, in principle, because I can always use one more JustFriend in the posse. But I wanted to run it by her first, to see if it would be crazy-making in any way. And she said she thought it was a great idea, that he makes a good, loyal friend and we would have lots to talk about; I know her well enough to know she wouldn’t tell me so if she didn’t mean it. So, whew!

[There is *zero* possibility of this ever becoming more than friendship, so rest easy, girls. NintendoMan is not going to be your new daddy. (Yeah, him. I’m probably even more surprised than you are. {But I admire his courage in asking, particularly after how cranky he was with me for divorcing your father.})]

And oye, will I have things to tell Trainman, next time we talk!

Well, I went to bed earlier than usual last night, and I woke up ahead of the alarm. So I have time for more bacon and eggs, and I made a PBJ to take to work today, and there is time for a nice steep in the tub and maybe even a half-hour of Ace of Cakes. We are going to be short-handed today; one of my team is out for jury duty and possibly another one has been felled by the flu. I will take all the fortification I can get.

I may have finished the sweater I was working on. I’m not crazy about the underarm shaping and will just have to wait until Cuprit gets here [whenever that is] and try it on her before deciding if/how I need to fix it. I may end up ripping back both sleeves entirely, doubling the number of decreases and thereby lengthening the sleeves [I was being cautious, because I didn’t know how far the remaining yarn would go], or opting to simply tidy the edges with a narrow band and call this a vest. So, no pictures today; it looks rather UglyDuckling-ish at the moment, and I will have to try it on Cuprit to find out if it is really a swan in disguise.

The good news is, now I can swatch the Hempathy sweater for Jessica with a perfectly clear conscience. Woohoo! Though I only have fifteen days to knit up something brilliant for my sister’s birthday and get it delivered. And Fourthborn’s birthday, two days before that.

Bacon. We wants bacon...