All done

Ok, this is all done. Can't believe it's been a year already. Visit me on South City Musings (or perhaps on South City Souvenirs, but probably not for long). I'll consider a bit what I might do next. I like daily writing. Obviously.

365/365 Cake, cake, and more cake

"What kind of cake do you want for your birthday?" I ask Maeve.

"Umm, vanilla cake with chocolate frosting," she says on the spot. Sophia is staring at her.

"But I thought you wanted turtle cake but with vanilla cake in the cake part," she protests. Sophia likes any opportunity to eat turtle cake [two layers of cake separated by a layer of melted caramel, chocolate chips, and chunks of pecan].

"What kind of cake can you make?" Maeve asks.

"I can make strawberry cake, turtle cake, chocolate cake, red velvet cake, lemon cake, carrot cake, and any kind of cake that comes in a box."

"Lemon cake," she over-pronounces the L.

"You want lemon cake?" I check.

"Lemon. With," she thinks. "With lemon frosting."

"Do you want ice cream?"

"Lemon," she says again. "Lemon ice cream."

"Could you give me a back up plan in case I can't find lemon?" I ask, thinking to the one time I've had lemon ice cream (as opposed to lemon sorbet or ice). Tasted like frozen lemon icing.

"Mint," she says in a way that lets me know there is no going back now.

"When my birthday comes around again," Sophia vows, "You're going to make me cheesecake."

"That would be fine."

364/365 Generations

"I think Bridgett has always felt like she's a different generation from Bevin and Colleen," my mom mentions to my aunt Gracemarie during lunch. I no longer recall how we got on this topic.

"Definitely," Bevin says quickly. "She's a Gen X-er and Colleen and I are both Millennials or whatever they're going to call us."

"But I thought Christine was a Millenial," Gracemarie looks ready to defend her opinion even if it's wrong. Christine is 3 years older than me.

"No," I say, but then I fudge. "I think she's Gen X. She's older than me and I'm definitely there."

"So what's the difference?" she challenges me. Bevin takes up the case.

"Gen X-ers hate Boomers," she sums up.

"Pretty much," I sigh.

"But Boomers," my mom cuts in. "There are two different kinds of Boomers. Those who were hippies and then became conservatives, and those who always were."

Oh crap, I think to myself. Not now.

"Well, I think you and Terry were the first kind, we always thought so," Gracemarie tells her.

"Oh, I think Terry's always been a little more conservative," my mom sighs. I stare into the living room, past the couches, out the windows. I note the awnings on the parsonage across the street, and how blue the living room is. I don't say anything.

"And now he's an angry conservative," Bevin tells her.

"And Mike's an angry liberal," my mom looks at me. I glance, but just for a moment.

"Well, Jim wasn't an angry conservative, but NOW he is." My aunt sits up straight. Have I mentioned my sister's facial piercings and tattoos? Her boyfriend? My political beliefs? I want to flee this conversation. But I sit for a moment more.

"My neighbor has two rabbits," my sister says nervously, smiling at me. It's the Blake family get out of jail free card, when the conversation gets too much. You say that (who knows why anymore) and everyone stops, looks at you, laughs, and goes back to friendly talk.

It didn't work this time.

363/365 Maeve Dances

"Does she practice at home with Sophia?" the dance instructor asks. "She's doing really well with the jig."

I shrug. Maeve shakes her head no.

"I just know it," she says confidently.

"I can tell Maeve is the firecracker at your house," the instructor says to me, but looking at Maeve.

"Oh yes," I agree. "That's exactly what she is."

362/365 Thinking about Reading

"I think I'm going to start reading this book," Sophia announces in the car.

"Think you're going to start?" Mike looks back at her.

"Yeah. I've been looking at it for a couple of nights, just to see if I should read it, and I guess I will."

"Two nights to decide?" he asks again with a smile on his face. She doesn't answer that but tells us the title and what she thinks it's about--it's a kid's graphic novel, it turns out.

"I guess there are people who need pre-reading," I mumble to Mike after I turn up the music a bit in the back. He glances at me.

"What?" I laugh. "Two nights? Two nights?"

"Yeah," he agrees.

"What was that called? SQ3R?"

"Yes."

"So stupid."

"Survey, question, read, recite, review?" he thinks back.

"By the end of it you hated whatever you'd read." We both nod.

361/365 Harvey Keitel

"How was the class?" Mike asks as I fall onto the couch and drop my bag on the floor.

"Oh, it was ok. It was mostly having two people read aloud to a room of 25 annoyed moms." Girl Scout training.

"But it was ok?" This obviously doesn't sound ok to Mike.

"Yeah. It's done now. The presenters were good. One was, well, imagine a thin grandmotherly type, sweater over the shoulders, you can imagine the knitting in the bag next to her."

"Sure."

"And the other one was Harvey Keitel."

He looks at me, puzzled. "You had a male trainer at a girl scout thing? I mean, I guess--"

"No. Harvey Keitel in female form. Accent, face, everything."

"Oh. Oh my."

360/365 In the Groove

"Well, it's been a month," I announce to Mike.

"Since?"

"Since school began. And I think we're finally in the groove of back to school."

He nods. It's 8:30 and Maeve's been in bed for an hour and Sophia just headed up.