While I was over there, I baked some awesome cupcakes. Cinnamon swirl cake with vanilla pudding and caramel mixed in, then topped with a coat of slivered almonds and frosted with pastel pink cream cheese frosting. They came out amazingly! After that, I was handed a pool skimmer and told to get everything off the bottom. I am sure that my arms will be noodles tomorrow morning but right now, I am basking in the glow of wearing myself out with simple work and playing in the water.
I was assisted in my baking by a delightfully bright 4 year old girl named Laura. She helped count out the eggs we needed, as well as stirred and topped the cupcakes. We dubbed them Teamwork Cupcakes. After we let the cupcakes cool completely and iced them, I headed outside to get my cleaning assignment. Ama handed me a skimmer and pointed to the pool. I hopped in the pool to start skimming out the leaves and bits when suddenly I was being squirted with a pump gun! I turned around to see little Laura holding the squirt gun and giggling madly. This was the ensuing conversation.
"Hehe, I got you! You're the witch and I'm a robot!" Laura squealed at me, brandishing the pump gun.
"But witches melt in water! And what happened to our teamwork? The beautiful cupcakes we made!" I yelped back as another jet of water hit me in the face.
"It was a DREAM. You fell asleep and it was all a dream." She filled the pump again from the kiddie pool. "And now your nightmares are come true!"
I promise, I could not make up a child that awesome. Four years old and saying things like that? Well on her way to being a totally amazing adult.
Ok, day check is more or less done. I don't intend to turn this into a journal really so I'm going to post a couple of poems to keep it down to a minimum tonight.
This one is a prose poem I wrote for my writing class. Its pretty straight forward.
Molten
I used to love watching a man turn sand and paint
and heat into glowing lumps of shining glass. My mother would always pull me
back from those hot displays, the glass, the fire, the stove, telling me it
would burn. I should choose safer toys, she whispered, soothing my singed
digits with dabs of cool white cream. I tore my toys apart. I wanted to know
how they worked, why they moved and talked and glittered with that spark light.
I could never disassemble my sister like that, or my almost-brothers, Ben and Victor. I watched the people around me, separate,
silent, dissecting my heart as I tried to separate theirs. Their dreams hung,
floated, glowing and fragile and hot in their hearts, high on a ledge I tried
to touch in my own soul. Once a dream
fell from that sacred shelf, shattered, crumbling to the harsh reality of the
world in an explosion of powdered light and slicing shards. The man I watched
who rolled the molten glass swept glittering bits of destruction into a bowl
and dipped a knob of red orange light into that pit of broken light. It was
thrown back into the scorching fire, burning away the remnants of dust and
tears and fused it into a majestic multicolored swirl of ideas, yet only a
flimsy parody of a first pure joy.
I really don't have a preamble to this next one. Its just a poem.
Starlight
Struck by stars in the perfect ink black sky,
I lay and watch the celestial waltz hang above.
My sister slumbered close by, lazy wisps of breath
slipping in and out of her silent form. The Cimmerian sky
swelled with the rhythm of the night, in and out,
coming closer as I watched. Stars leapt into existence,
filling the sky until no more dark could be seen. I stood
and wrapped the night around me as a shroud.
The stars became my thoughts and the dark my life.
Terrestrial identity fell away as I severed from sullen soil,
soaring to the light of the heavenly host. For an instant
I looked back, to see two silent forms upon the cool grass.
Their breathing set the tempo to the pulsing sky
and gave me music to dance on lightest feet
in that endless, glorious night.
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