My Backyard Should Have Its Own Reality Show

I haven't been out there since we took the pictures. It is a mess. And that tree. . .. Neither we nor the neighbors know whose fence was smashed. We're hoping the insurance company does.

Instead of going out there and dealing with the cursed backyard, I wire wrapped. For survival. All this stress needed a whole lot of wrapping and so I made a pair of earrings that required a whole lot of wrapping.

Lots and lots of wraps. Wraps on top of wraps. All this wrapping and I'm still friggin' stressed all the hell out.













Perhaps a beer. I like beer. I will wait until exactly noon my time (that will be in thirty for minutes counting from. . . . NOW!) to have that beer. If you wait for noon, that means you're not an alcoholic. If the beer doesn't work, and I'm almost sure it won't, there's always cooking.

How does an experimental dessert sound? In the cupboard there is a can of diced peaches and another can of apricot halves and in the refrigerator there is a half pint of heavy cream. The plan: A lot of milk, egg yolks and sugar; a little cornstarch and vanilla-- I think they call that a custard. Chop up the canned fruit and lay it on top of the custard. Whip up the heavy cream with powdered sugar, vanilla and a dash of almond extract. Put that on top of the chopped canned fruit.

What will I do once the dessert is in the fridge? Either I'll be ready to face the yard and start cleaning up or I'll make a bunch more jewelry. My money's on the jewelry.