Monday, February 28, 2011

the hazards of icing

I baked a birthday cake for someone last night. Four-layered, double chocolate. It got loads of compliments today. The person I baked it for told the newer people in the lab that my baking was "famous".

There was a time, not all that long ago, when baking would inevitably turn into a form of self-punishment. Only about half of what I started baking would ever make it to the person I was baking for; I would end up eating the rest, whether still as batter and icing or actually in baked form, and then I would end up throwing it up. It was totally impulsive and uncontrollable. Some part of me would clue in to what was happening, and realize it was crazy and pointless, and that part of me would want to stop...but it was like that part was distant, locked up somewhere inside, an observer unable to interfere with what she saw.

But that didn't happen last night. Last night I baked like a normal person. Actually, not quite - a normal person probably would have tasted the batter before it went into the oven, would have tasted the icing before putting it on the cake, possibly would have licked the mixing spoon clean. I didn't; I avoided the spoons and bowls as if they were coated with poison; but that's still much better than what I used to do.

And then I had a slice of cake with everyone else today. No big deal. Just a normal slice of cake.

It still amazes me, how such normal, seemingly small things feel like such accomplishments. But I'm proud of them all the same.

Friday, February 18, 2011


Comment made by a police officer, giving a safety talk on sexual harassment and sexual assault at a university:

“You know, I think we’re beating around the bush here. I’ve been told I’m not supposed to say this, however, women should avoid dressing like sluts in order not to be victimized.”

More on that story here.


Just wow.

And there is apparently quite a bit of controversy over this - some people saying the officer shouldn't have had to apologize, that he was just giving practical advice, and that some women need to hear the truth, that the way they dress can invite unwanted attention.

But that is just so damned narrow of a view to take. It leaves so many victims unaccounted for - conservatively dressed women can still be raped. So can children. And it implies that the victims of sexual assault are to blame for what happened to them, that they somehow provoked it. It's disgusting.

And I sure wasn't dressed like a slut when I was eight.

Just had to get that off my chest.

Monday, February 7, 2011


Not an infection.
Not a blood clot.
Not more cancer.

Nothing is wrong with Mom's heart.

They saw shadows at first, but they did more tests, and that's all they were - shadows.

Although...she does have an apparently benign tumor in her brain;
and the cancer in her lungs is starting to grow again, so that means more chemo;
and it's likely the chemo that started her internal bleeding problems in the first place.

But still, I'll take good news when I find it.

There's nothing wrong with her heart.