July 27, 2008

I Cry Dog Fart Uncle (now with CAKE!)

I am on writing retreat at Sara’s house with Karen and Renee – all the usual suspects for these North Carolina getaways. We set goals each night, and we are not allowed to leave our DWA (designated writing area) and PLAY until we have MET our goals.

The pressure to FINISH is intense. There are horses here AND a fully stocked bar, to be enjoyed STRICTLY in that order, and post bar, there is POKER and BAD TV. I plan to get at least two chapters knocked out before I go home, so a half chap a day is my minimum.

In sad retreat news, I am FORCED to admit TOTAL CRUSHING DOGFART DEFEAT. It hurts me, because LORD KNOWS Bagel could totally make the DF Olympics A team, but truth will out. Reba, Sara’s yellow dog, would totally take the gold.

Just when we thought Reba had reached her maximum dogfart potential, she snuck off and ate HALF A BOX of my Kashi Vive cereal that SOMEONE (not me, for the record) left on the floor. Each serving has 12 grams of fiber. TWELVE. GRAMS. OF FIBER. Reba’s eye-wateringly hateful emanations reached EPIC pungency. Renee, I am sad to report, is now blind.

The ONLY GOOD part is they are AUDIBLE. I have NEVER met a dog who literally makes the THBTHBTHBTHB (fart noise spelling courtesy of Bloom County) sound, so we have TIME to run for another room of the house. Or perhaps a different continent.

I am PLEASED to report I worked like a (NON-farting) dog all day today. I VIRTUOUSLY got more than half a chapter drafted while sitting in Sara’s barn office. Outside, a disgruntled goat named Enzo kicked at the door and demanded I share bites of the delicious laptop I was CLEARLY bogarting.

Work done until sun-up tomorrow, we are ready to hardcore PLAY. It’s Sara’s birthday. Karen Abbott--- the LEAST DOMESTIC HUMAN BEING on the planet---got all CRAZED and said, WE HAVE TO BAKE SARA A BIRTHDAY CAKE.

Sara and Renee and I (all bakers of some international renown) thought it would be AWESOME to have her make the cake. Unsupervised. I am blogging this AS we sit in a judgmental, wine drinking line at the breakfast bar, NOT HELPING AT ALL. Karen is like the little red hen, and we are the dreadful FARM CAT, DONKEY and GOAT who do not want to help grow the wheat or harvest it or mill it or mix it or bake the bread, but we shall be SO HAPPY to help her EAT it.

WELLLL…whose of us who are not fastidious will help her eat it. Five minutes in, and she’s already let Fritz stand in the cake pans. (For the record? For breakfast I ate handfuls of the Vive cereal that REBA had started on, so a little cat foot is not going to deter me…)


And, when told to grease and flour a pan, she did this…


But she realized intuitively that she had too much OIL, so she did this…


BUT in the end, her batter turned out SO perfect she had to sneak a TEENY sample…


I suspect the cake may come out a little FRIED because of the amount of OIL in the pan, but, heck, everything is good fried. For a first foray into the fabulous world of box baking, I give her a 30. Out of 10. We are all justly proud.

IN OTHER NEWS. I have fallen most desperately in love with Pushkin. No, not Alexander Pushkin, the most famous and lauded of the Russian Romantic Writers. BARNEY Pushkin. I met him in the cemetery. More on him later--- The cake is about to come out of the oven. I must go see what happens….

Posted by joshilyn at July 27, 2008 7:43 PM

Sounds like y'all are having loads of fun.

And the Bloom County reference causes me to up my fan status from big fan to super duper really big fan. That was the best comic strip EVAH. "So swat my hind with a watermelon rind, 'cause that's a penguin state of mind..."

Posted by: Jill W. at July 27, 2008 9:02 PM

I got together with a group of writer friends this weekend, unfortunately no writing was accomplished; however, that was not our purpose for this weekend. Our purpose was to drink and run our mouths. That we accomplished rather well.

I'm glad you're getting some writing done as well as the rest of it.

Posted by: erinanne at July 27, 2008 10:43 PM

I am jealous. I admit it, the sin that it is.

I'm glad you are having fun! And yes. Horses THEN bevvies.

Posted by: Heather Cook at July 27, 2008 11:49 PM

I want that! Not so much the fry cake as the writer's weekend. I might have to make one for myself soon. I hope that you get lots of work done, lots of farts avoided, lots of cake eaten, lots of horses ridden, and lots and LOTS of drinks drunk.

Posted by: nik at July 28, 2008 1:58 AM

Ooh, at least it sounds like your designated writing area is far from the dog! We wouldn't want all your hard work to get crisped by those farts. Just make sure the goat doesn't eat the laptop when you're not looking.

Posted by: Brigitte at July 28, 2008 7:09 AM

Heh... I can't wait to hear about how the cake turns out. I'm not sorry to be missing the dog farts, though.

It's cracking me up that the goat's named Enzo. Half of my in-laws are named Enzo.

Posted by: Aimee at July 28, 2008 10:17 AM

Hilarious. Glad Karen turned off the mixer before she licked the batter off the beaters.

Posted by: Roxanne at July 28, 2008 10:35 AM

LOL about turning off the beaters before licking!

Joss, I was very confused about the half chap a day. I was totally thinking half chaps as in leather ones that you wear with paddock boots while riding. And thinking, HUH? She's going to wear one a day?

Shows you where my head is at.

Have fun - it sounds like a great retreat.

Posted by: billie at July 28, 2008 1:34 PM

Oh! Oh! I was one of the writer friends that got together with erinanne this weekend!


She is right. We didn't write, but there *was* some alcohol consumption and sushi and girl kissing in a purely scientific manner.

Posted by: Angela at July 28, 2008 2:50 PM

Wish I was with you and Karen eating cake!

Posted by: Amy-Go at July 28, 2008 11:30 PM

ACK! A cliffhanger! I hate cliffhangers! We must know what happened next, preferably with photos! Was the cake good? Was the wine good? Was Pushkin good?

To Sara: I love your witch balls!!!!

Posted by: DebR at July 28, 2008 11:38 PM