A pound of cake and productivity

I have written several posts since Saturday night. Some witty and charming. Some pensive and deep. Some rambling and disjointed. Some manic and frighteningly hyper.

Only. None of them made it out of my head.

So I am finally here to tell you, darling readers, that I just demolished a Fuji apple and made an (ahem): Cream Cheese-Pecan-Coconut-Bourbon Pound Cake. It is baking now. Soon it will come out of the oven and I will take a picture to show the world my beautiful creation.

In the meantime: a few Hints on Christmas Vacationing at Home

Do take lots of naps on the couch after reading Flannery O'Connor stories. Make sure to include the fuzzy red blanket/shawl thing.
Do not stalk around the house in the blanket shawl thing. It may be cozy at first, but soon you will start to feel like a hybrid between a very old lady and an Indian squaw from a pre-politically correct Western movie.

Do take lots of walks. Walk in the lovely clear and cold sun. Squish through the field across the street when it is foggy, until the mist envelopes you and you cannot see your house. Run with the Sweet Dog and shriek when he gallops past you with a stiff squirrel lodged in his happy mouth. Wander through the side woods after dark and gasp at the full moon shining through the bare-limbed trees.
Do not think of "The Village" while walking through aforesaid woods after dark. Specifically, do not call to mind the horrible red-robed creature and imagine it stalking through the woods right behind you.

Do sing your heart out with friends around the piano at a Christmas hymn-sing.
Do not sing your heart out while the pest-control guy is wandering around the house. Um. Yeah.

***
Of my lists, so far I have accomplished none of the concrete. I did spend an hour watching movies like these with Jim. And quoting them continually since then ("Emotions are for ethnics, Bobby." Cue our raucous laughter). And I have cooked (Brown Sugar Maple Acorn Squash=weird but good) and scrapbooked (Mom and Dad: the pre-kids days) and read. Confession: I am reading a Jan Karon novel. I don't know why I feel so guilty . It's not as if Mitford falls in the same category with the much-hated Christian Romance Novels. But I got the O'Connor and a Walker Percy novel to balance out the sweetness and light, and also Orthodoxy by Chesterton, and I have lots of other serious reading planned. But I . . . I . . . I just needed to go to Mitford for a while, ok?

***
I think I hear a beeping. Excuse me while I scurry to the kitchen . . .

. . . and 1 hour later, it is done. Done, because either Southern Living or I messed up with the temp and baking time. And it wasn't me. For once (of course, I will probably wake up in the middle of the night and remember that it was me, but . . .). The point is that it tastes divine. I know, because I cut several small slivers off the craggy top where no one will ever notice, and it's really really good. Really. Good.

And it had better be, 'cause even going by the college schedule I lost sleep over this cake.

Edit: Here is The Cake

And here is The Cake after Dad's staff luncheon

Ah. Baking.