The Little Rotten Baby turned one year old today. She's been walking for a few weeks. She can say a few words and do a few "baby signs." Sharp as a tack, she is; show her something once, and she's on it. If she wants to, that is. (Have I mentioned she's rotten?)
I went to see her this evening. She's having a birthday party Saturday, but I have a thing about THE DAY. Took her some cupcakes. She picked out the one she wanted, red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting. It surprised me that she went for that one instead of the one with colorful sprinkles.) She blew out one candle and we all clapped and said YAY! And she applauded herself and licked some frosting. It was so sweet it gave her the shivers. I offered her a bite of just the cake, but she spat it right out. Can't say I blame her. I don't like it, either.
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My chicken house came today. I happened to be standing in the driveway when the FedEx man drove up, and he brought it to the back porch for me. There were supposed to be two boxes. Maybe the other will come tomorrow. I'm not in a hurry, anyway. It's cold, and my knee is out, and we've got to clean out a spot to put the coop, and I don't even want to open the box.
I got my first order today from a company that's supposedly selling locally-sourced food and delivering to homes. It was on the doorstep in a couple of insulated canvas bags with ice packs in them. I don't know what possessed me to buy a quart of cream, but I did - maybe it was part of a "bundle" - and I don't use it that often. Did you know that all you need to make a good biscuit is self-rising flour and enough cream to make dough? That's it. (The cream has enough fat in it that you don't need to add butter or shortening.) Tomorrow morning, I'm going to use that cream to make a big batch of biscuits to take to work.
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