Let Us Eat Cake

i’ll have you know that I’m sitting here eating chocolate cake from a mug. AND I put whipped cream on it. AND it’s pretty delicious.

Thank you for your lovely and sympathetic comments on yesterday’s post. Things do not actually look better today, but there’s mug cake and so it’s not worse. My mother would insist that it’s always better the next day. We can pretend, can’t we? Let’s.

On the other hand, I often catch myself thinking, “Well, probably shouldn’t complain about this. Dad’s going to die* so might as well save up for that.” I know. If I weren’t already medicated, I would also suggest it to myself. More cake.

For your sake, I tried to count my blessings but I’m not exactly sure why that is supposed to help and most of my blessings are double-edged swords anyway. For example:

—RR didn’t have six accidents today like she did on Tuesday.
—I only made one person spitting mad today while doing my job. I can’t hardly wait for the repercussions of remaining level headed tomorrow.
—I moved yesterday’s t-shirt off of the table…to the other table.

As you can see, things are pretty great over here. One actual blessing, tomorrow is Friday so anyone who wants to be mad at me will only have another day to fling vitriol my way. That certainly makes everything MUCH better.

Mug Cake:

Combine 1/4 cup of flour, 2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder, 2 tablespoons of sugar, 1/4 teaspoon baking powder, 1/8 teaspoon salt in a small bowl.

Add 1/4 cup plus two tablespoons buttermillk (or milk if you haven’t got it), 2 tablespoons vegetable oil, and 1/4 teaspoon vanilla. Do not decide you really should put an egg in. Yes, cakes have eggs but you’d need just a tiny bit of egg for a mug and I promise, it’s going to be fine.

Stir, no finesse required.

Put in a large mug. If all you have is small, divide into two. Cake will rise and attack your microwave. Because that’s what you are using for the next 70-80 seconds.

Cook. Eat. Careful, it’s hot.

*not today, hopefully not for a little while.


7 Responses

  1. In lieu of a comforting comment on your last post:

    Don’t worry, you’re not Bette. She would NEVER eat mug cake.

  2. Just wanted to let you know that I am thinking of you and your family. Every time I open up my reader I wonder how you’re doing. Which I know sounds weird because how is one supposed to cope other than just survive moment to moment? But after going through it alongside my spouse with her mother, I don’t know I feel a connection to everyone who is going through it and all I can do is send my love.

  3. I am glad you have mug cake. Also people who love you. I hope things get easier. Maybe mug pie tomorrow?

  4. Mug cake helps. Even if just for that little bit.
    I get it, and I get the last post two with the inertia. But I especially get beating yourself up about feeling sad about something when there are worse things. Your brain doesn't care about that. Since when are we purely logical beings?
    Things like this usually aren't better the next day, and it might still get worse, but it *will* get better. Day by day is sometimes the only way to take it.
    Thinking of you

  5. MUG CAKE!

  6. Thinking of you and your family and all of the things. We coped with our much less stressful things by making these last night. May they bring you equal happiness: http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2015/08/frozen-hot-chocolate/#more-16567

  7. Just thinking of you. I might even try that mug cake!

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