Cake, Cake, Cake

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March is Birthday Month, which means I’m going to be baking a lot of cake. Also, twice in the last 24 hours people have told me they don’t get birthday cakes anymore. I immediately took it upon myself to rectify this sad situation. Because even though I hate my own birthday was a passion, I enjoy other people’s natal celebrations. To be more precise, I enjoy facilitating and cooking for other people’s birthdays, and I love baking.

I despise my birthday for a variety of reasons, most of them stemming from childhood. I do my best, every year, to forget the damn occasion. It’s just laden with memories of too much stress and chaos. I even dislike having to give the date on official forms and the such, just because it churns up memories of screaming, tension, and nastiness. But other people’s days are joyous for me. Plus, I just really like baking cakes. It’s soothing. (And testing the batter and the frosting to make sure there’s nothing wrong with it is good, too.)

Let’s see, what else to report? There is some progress on the book-of-writing-posts front. It’s slow, though, and I think May is a trifle premature. “Maybe in the fall” is more like it, given everyone’s schedules. So…we’ll see. I am still not convinced about that whole thing. Right now a freelancer (who deserves a halo for sainthood, I’m just sayin’) is going through the raw data and arranging the posts chronologically and prettifying them. The very idea of staring at that data dump for that long makes my eyelids twitch, so I’m more than happy to pay for it.

Oh, plus, a PSA: If you are stupid enough to want to troll the comments section here, you should be aware that your attempts will be held in a queue; they will be saved and your IP address is automatically stored as well. You’ll be leaving behind copious amounts of evidence.

I figure I don’t need to say any more than that.

The rain’s coming down in a real toad-strangler out there, mixed with pellets of ice and hail. The Selkie tells me the wind’s from the north, so that means the front’s moving through. And behind it, the cold. I’d make a cheap “winter is coming” joke here, but it’s almost-spring, so…yeah.

Back to work on The Red Plague Affair. There’s the Collegia to visit, and a death to write–I really like this character, but I don’t see any way out for him. And this type of demise isn’t pleasant. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

Over and out.