If thinking was a sport I would cross the finish line toward the back of the pack. Coming around the final turn my view would be of flung mud and wisps of mares’ tails. This is not to say I don’t think. That I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed. I’m just not an exact thinker. A miniscule mesmerizing mystic mind guru, that’s me. I find if I over think things it takes all the fun out of swinging from the trees. But I sense you need an example ...
Having fashion sense isn’t on my list. Well, not at the top of my list. So when we moved into our home so many years ago I was both excited and not so excited about buying all the things needed to make a house a home, like curtains.
This house has four huge windows in the front/dining rooms to cover with curtains that would need to match because it’s in essence one big living space. Off to catalogs I went. Yes, catalogs, those paper booklets that were used to buy curtains and bedding and the like before the Internet and because I wasn’t flush enough to have some interior decorator do the job. Besides I felt I could do this. I needed to “make my decorating bones.” No problem.
Our area is a flat, kind of nondescript farming area. Don’t get me wrong. It’s wonderful to live here. Beautiful mountains, great people ... but I felt I needed a splash of color in our new made-to-order, delivered-on-wheels-but-not-a-trailer, home. So when I saw the curtains I ended up ordering and putting up, I fell for them pretty hard. My other half, not so much.
So sure of myself and my choice I suggested we have my friend over and see what she thought. She has great taste, is a bit older and has more than a few decorating projects under her belt. I knew she would take my side. So I called and after work that afternoon she stopped by.
It was a breezy, warm, early summer afternoon. I had the curtains hanging, the windows open the breeze fluttering the fabric of my choice. OK, here is the thing. They were bright, with these huge flowery designs of wonderful, colorful — oranges! Yes, oranges. Marigold, yam, carrot, marmalade tangerine, red rust. Orange. Lots of orange. Lively — or so I thought. Because after the snickering was quelled, the curtains were returned and beige is now my watch word when buying window coverings.
Needless to say; what was I thinking!
Time for one more? OK.
There was a time in my life I made decorated cakes for friends and family. Soon I was making cakes for sale. Birthday cakes decorated as characters like Mickey Mouse, Barbie and Ziggy, (Google Ziggy. He was quite cute at one time). Then it grew into wedding cakes and I even made a cake for Gov. Paul Laxalt when he made a Republican whistle stop in Eureka. Anyway.
I set up wedding cakes while the ceremony was taking place. That way all was ready for the “cutting and stuffing” ceremony at the reception. I finished up with this one cake for a mid-summer wedding then I left the venue to go home and relax. Hey, it’s a lot of pressure to get a cake to a wedding ready for a bride let alone the mother of the bride.
About 10 minutes later I get this call, thankfully, from the caterer who tells me the flowers are falling off the cake. She tried to put them back on but they were melting faster than she could fix them.
I lived 10 miles away and I drove that 10 miles in about four minutes. When I walked in there it was, this five-tiered cake with wonderful roses falling like rain. I can still feel my heart in my throat. See, I got this idea since it was going to be really hot that day I would freeze the cake the night before, finish the decorating the morning of the wedding and put it all together so it would be ready and fresh and thawed by the time the bride smashed cake in the groom’s face!
Not the best idea because as the cake underneath began to thaw, the icing got moist and the roses, which were freshly made that morning, began to unglue themselves from the sides! Good thing frosting, in baking circles, is also known as edible glue.
Again — what was I thinking!
Well, there’s the problem (with both stories). I wasn’t thinking. I was being myself and in these instances, I was coming around the final turn and all I saw was flinging frosting roses and wisps of orange curtains. Wouldn’t change one memory making time.
Trina lives in Eureka, Nevada. Her book ITY BITS is on Kindle. Share with her at itybytrina@yahoo.com.
