I got it in my head today that I needed to make a pound cake. So I pulled out a couple cookbooks and spent a couple hours trying to choose one. Of course, me being me, I couldn't just pick a recipe and run with it. No, that might be too straightforward, too results-guaranteed. So I picked two to combine - one a chocolate pound cake with chocolate glaze and the other a buttermilk almond variety. The result is in the oven as I type this. If it works, I'll post the recipe. It smells delicious so I've got some high hopes that it will one fantastic cake.


    Yesterday was my last day of work. I am now officially either 1) on maternity leave or 2) unemployed, depending upon how you look at these things. I am planning a three month period of not formally working, but things being what they are these days one never knows so I'm putting together a plan of action to be executed over those three months to keep as many options as possible wide open. I'm looking to send cards and e-mails to keep in touch with contacts, finishing a book proposal, possibly applying for that job at the University (haven't quite decided on that one yet), and writing a business plan for my latest Big Idea. None of this may stick, of course, but at least I'll give myself some comfort knowing that I'm keeping active in pursuit of my goals.


    I'm reading Madeline Albrights autobiography Madame Secretary and am finding it - and her - really amazing. I'm about half way through and am utterly astonished at her accomplishments, good humor, perserverance and all around capabilities. Not only am I getting a better understanding of world events that shaped the end of the last century, but I am in awe of her as a woman and a person. Even if you don't necessarily agree with her politics (let alone those of the administration she served) I heartily recommend her book. Truly amazing.

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    Today I did what women since time immemorial have done when faced with the realization that they are rapidly losing control of their lives.


    I made fudge.


    Seriously, is there anything more soothing than stirring melting chocolate smooth and blending in creamy condensed milk to create an entirely new confection? I'm tempted to make a metaphor relating to the creation of a child - an utterly different creature yet retaining characteristics of its parents - but I won't. It's enough that I was able to drown my angst in the mechanics of the process and now I will be rewarded with after dinner chocolates. I have made the fancy-pants kind of fudge requiring candy thermometers, corn syrup, and dip-into-capital chocolate and, as good as they are, they lack that kind of Wow! Look What I Made wonder that comes from making candy in under 15 minutes that's the backbone of producing fudge as a response to chaos. Plus, it helped me feel better about crapping out on last night's dinner. Absolution of guilt through chocolate - more fattening than confession, but more satisfying, too.


    The current chaos level of my household derives from the three days of snow emergency inflicted upon most of the east coast. Tomorrow will be the third consecutive day that preschool is closed and we are all going a little bit nuts here. It's mostly ice and sleet outside, so burning off steam outside is not a possibility and we've run through my box of rainy day crafts. And funny how the Boy Wonder doesn't feel that organizing his race cars by color is an entertaining activity. Luckily we've avoided the tyranny of the television and have managed to stick to our guns regarding one video per day.


    Add to this that I have three days left on my contract and am gamely trying to wrap up the actual work while producing a project summary for the files. Plus, the local paper happened to run a want ad for the University that more or less screamed, "Marsha - apply for this - we want you!" so I'm trying to weigh whether or not I want a real job. I haven't had one in almost three years and self-employment has a lot to recommend it. There are definite advantages to standard employment, though, and I'm trying to gauge how ready I am (if at all) to re-enter that world. Of course, this is all useless worry. It's entirely likely that they will have zero interest in me and so my thinking and rethinking will be for naught but in the meantime I'm putting lots of thought into my resume and application forms (since it's a state position there are - count 'em! - seven separate forms, most of which are repetitive in some way).


    Then there is the matter of the continuing state of my pregnancy. The baby is not "late" yet, and I really need a couple more days to complete some work and house stuff, but I am so over this. I read somewhere that the first time one is pregnant you feel like you invented the process and every subsequent pregnancy becomes less and less magical. This has been true for me but I am assured that the joy of bringing your baby home never diminishes and it is this that I am focused on. I want to meet my daughter, bring her home and start our lives together. I've got a lot to teach her - like how to make fudge, for instance.

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    I just got off the phone with my husband, asking him to pick up one of those rotisseri chicken meals on the way home. I'm feeling quite out of it today and figured that, since he had to be out and about anyway (UVA is one of the only schools or offices open during the current ice storm) he may as well procure some dinner. Otherwise it's soup and biscuits (that he'll have to make himself). Luckily, one of our local markets has a chicken dinner package that includes a couple sides and some bread. Dinner is served.


    We're much better off than most during this storm, but things are still pretty darn cold and icy here. Preschool was closed today and will be again tomorrow and I'm reminded of how blessed I am that I work at home and have some level of flexibility to roll with these punches. The house is getting pretty cold, though, since I don't really have many skills in the fire-building department and our heat pump is broken. Crappy timing, but there you have it. My husband the former Boy Scout is the official "Combustion Event Engineer" in the household and, although I was a Camp Fire Girl for many years we never actually got around to making campfires (although I got a nifty bead for making a nightgown). To cope I've left the Boy in his footie pajamas and am making batch after batch of muffins just to keep the oven on. brrrrr!



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