Who doesn't love chocolate cake?

 



Tuesday.  July 29th.  2025.  Provo.  Utah.  


Auditores honorati;


I always check the weather in Woodbridge, Virginia, where Amy is staying to take care of our grandson. This morning Google weather has issued an excessive heat warning for Woodbridge and surrounding areas, with a high of 94, which will feel like 104 degrees because of the humidity. So I guess I won’t complain about how hot it’s been around here . . . 


Although . . . 

Our dry heat plays hob with my skin in the summer.  I went to the dermatologist two years ago, covered in an angry red rash and welts.  I thought it might be Hansens’s disease.  But the skin walker assured me it was just excessively dry skin.  So now I use a combination of baby oil, Vaseline, CeraVe, Palmer’s Cocoa Butter Formula, and a touch of hydrocortisone, to ease the discomfort of my mummy-like skin.


For my sleep disorder I’ve been taking 3mgs of melatonin each night. Some nights it helps, some nights, like tonight, it’s a bust.


But my adversity is your blessing, vennene mine, because, in order to pass the sleepless starry hours, I am baking a chocolate cake.

Our daughter Sarah came over on Saturday to clean out and rearrange our pantry.  She did a bang up job, and unearthed some items I had forgotten about.  Coconut sugar, and whole wheat flour, for instance.


 Today’s recipe for my homemade chocolate cake is as follows:


1 cup all purpose flour.


1 cup whole wheat flour.


1.5 cups of coconut sugar.


A pinch of sea salt.


A half cup of Trader Joe’s organic cocoa.


A teaspoon of baking soda.


A tablespoon of baking powder.


1.5 cups of Bulgarian buttermilk.


1 egg.


A capful of vanilla.


Half a cup of white chocolate chips.


A heaping tablespoon of Dukes Mayonnaise.


A third of a cup of corn oil.


Mix with a wooden spoon until just blended.


Let it sit and rise for ten minutes, then pop it in a 350 degree oven for 34 minutes.



So that is what I’ll be bringing around at about 4 this afternoon.


As for a main dish, I’m torn between making some deep rich French onion soup, or a slow cooker meatloaf, smothered in mushrooms.

I’ll toss a coin this morning when I’m out before sunrise at the crossroads in front of Fresh Market with my Poet For Hire sign. Heads, it’s soup – tails, it’s meatloaf.


Today’s poem:


The world has gone to hell.


It may not last a week.


But Hope’s a stubborn gal;


We’re dancing cheek to cheek.



May the Force be with you,


Alfred E. Neuman.  







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