It was the day before Mom’s birthday and since we were going to be away the following day, I had baked her a cake for a surprise. Junior was helping me put the candles in the cake, and rather than try to find the right number I just chose a bunch that matched each other. Meanwhile Junior went to ask Mom how old she was going to be.
“I’ll be fifty-two.”
“Well Mom’s birthday isn’t till tomorrow, so I guess we need fifty-one candles.”
I had found ten and stuck them in a circle in the top of the round cake. It was obvious that there weren’t fifty-one, but Junior wanted to count them anyway. He got to eleven before he realized he had lost track of the first one. So I told him I’d help: I would turn the cake while he counted. This time he got up to fifteen before he realized something was up. Too bad- if we had kept it up I’m sure we could have gotten to fifty-one. Or fifty-two.
I was up rather late tatting, and I heard the clock in the kitchen ring the hour. The clock hasn’t rung the proper number of chimes for years, so I just assumed it was midnight. When I came out and looked at the clock, however, I discovered it was only eleven after all. Maybe I’m a faster tatter than I think!
My dear reader,
This blog deserves no formal introduction. Its purpose is to brighten your day, whether it be by some snippet of truth, by a fair prospect I have attempted to capture with my camera, or by some anecdote or witticism that has brightened my day.
From time to time I will, in my feeble attempt to help illumine the world, elucidate on some method I have found for making or fixing things. Should you find fault with these instructions or if you can elaborate upon them, please enlighten me with your comments.
The times are too dark and too dreary,
and it’s hard to get by in the dark.
When your friends’ downcast eyes become bleary
help them back on their way: be a spark.