Cake Balls and Dog Dreams

How nice is it that as of now, 100% of the comments to my previous post were supportive? I really do appreciate your thoughts and opinions and funny stories. Come over to my house. I made a batch of cake balls. Let’s eat them.

Really. I made a batch of cake balls.

Purple Cake Balls!

They’re purple with pink stripes and white cake with white icing and I’ve eaten at least four of them today.

Jeff is on a business trip in Florida. As I sit here typing, he is eating breakfast at Downtown Disney.

(I made a batch of cake balls. Let’s eat them.)

This has nothing to do with that: When Meredith was three years old, she got really angry with me one afternoon, and she screamed, “I’m going to poop on your pillow, and then I’m going to poop on your wedding rings!!!” (Please know that when I’m especially frustrated, I tell Jeff that I’m going to poop on his wedding ring. Please also know that I would never actually do such a thing, as I am Refined. Like sugar.)

Anyway, Scout has been going through a phase in which she likes to do her business in the girls’ bedroom. (On the floor. Never on Meredith’s pillow.) To me, it’s a taste of What Goes Around Comes Around or Spinning Wheel Got to Go Round or something to that effect. (Speaking of which, I never did get a spinning wheel. The fever has settled for now, as I’m having trouble finding time to use my spindle, which leads me to believe that I really have no time to deal with a wheel right now.)

Why am I not spinning? Because I’m spending most of my waking hours with this:

Conehead Nap

Scout has discovered that she can’t really do much with the cone around her face. She tends to knock her food dish over with the cone, so I have to feed her by hand. She can’t run full speed under the couch while wearing the cone, so I have to help her find alternate hiding places. When she takes a drink, she slobbers onto the cone, and then it drips onto her neck when she lifts her face up—and she can’t scratch her neck because of the cone, so I’m constantly having to wipe OUT the cone and scratch her neck! (I know. I’m creating a monster.) ARGH! Scout HAS discovered a bit of a coping mechanism, and that is: Naps. Naps filled with dreams of what she COULD be doing while wearing that stinking cone.

She could be walking on the moon. (She has always been a fan of The Police.)

Scout on the Moon

She could be One Less Lonely Girl at a Justin Bieber concert.

Scout is One Less Lonely Girl

Best of all, she could be Ira Glass’s dangling earring, which would allow her to whisper sweet somethings into his ear. (Sweet nothings are for amateurs. Scout is a woman of substance. Valentin Louis Georges Eugène Marcel Proust!)

Scout is Ira Glass's Earring!

(As Mr. Glass performs in St. Louis on Saturday evening, Peter Gabriel will be performing in Kansas City. Missouri wins the Saturday Night Coolness Award.)

((Meanwhile, the cone comes off tomorrow morning. You’ll probably hear our rejoicing all the way over there.)) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

18 thoughts on “Cake Balls and Dog Dreams”

  1. So glad the cone comes off tomorrow! I am sure she will be so happy. Wish I was in town. The cake balls sound good. Maybe the kids and I will have to make some. Enjoy your day!

  2. “I would never do such a thing, because I am refined. Like Sugar.” Cracking up over here!
    Have a great day.

  3. Are you going to see Mr. Ira Glass?!??!! (It’s kinda strange how excited I just got when I read that.) So are you?

  4. Huey Lewis and the News are playing in KC tonight. That’s my husband’s favorite band. Unfortunately the power of love is not strong enough for me to sit through that.

    I heart Ira Glass. They should sell Bop for adults and put his picture in it so I can tear it out and tape it to my wall.

  5. Your cake balls look great–as it is Father’s Day on Sunday, the girls are going to assist me in making our first batch of cake balls on Saturday! I’m excited! (Maybe too excited?)

  6. In honor of Mr. Gabriel, I will don an overcoat Saturday evening, stand in my front yard pointing west, and hold a boom box above my head all Lloyd Dobler-like.

    As a gift to my neighbors, said boom box will be blaring Wham!’s greatest hits.

  7. My husband has also abandoned me with the kids for a business trip in Florida. Maybe they’re riding Space Mountain together right now? As a weird coincidence I live in Kansas City and can’t see Peter Gabriel because of the aforementioned abandonment. Sigh.

  8. Angela, I didn’t think I could like Ira Glass any more than I do…until I saw him with Scout hanging from his already-handsome lobe.

    You are responsible for my increasingly wayward soul, madam. I hope you’re cool with that.

  9. All I can think of is how large an Ira Glass head would have to be to support a scout earring. The only thing cooler than Ira Glass? Huge head Ira Glass!

  10. Is it terrible that my first thought when I saw the title of this post was wouldn’t it be great if it said “Dog Balls and Cake Dreams”?

  11. I bought some melting chocolate stuff so I can make more cake balls – soon! Also, I have that inflatable collar thing that Ann linked to. I think Oscar prefers it because he can eat and drink, however he looks a bit like he’s ready to go boating. Maybe I should make him cake balls next time he’s in the collar of shame.

  12. I really have to make cake balls one of these days! But I probably won’t because I am too lazy. I do wish you lived closer! Happy Cone Removal Day to Scout!

  13. I am heartbroken because kelly O’keefe stole my line. The only way to top it would be if the dog’s balls were made of cake. Then we would know why they lick them. Yum.

  14. I am in KC, and was heartbroken not to be able to see Mr. Gabriel last weekend.

    Evidently, according to my silly boyfriend, it’s not worth going to a show if you can’t get primo seats. And those seats cost $200 a piece. Additionally, I was informed that if he went to the show and were unable to meet Mr. Gabriel in person after the show, (He’s been very spoiled in this department in the past), he might fall into a deep funk, never to emerge. Thus, we did not see Mr. Gabriel.

    The whole thing makes me very sad. (As I would have settled for the $40 nosebleed seats.)

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