a random composite about light and eggs

While things sprout, irrespective of the ridiculous East Coast weather, my inbox has tossed sprout out the window, in favor of a galloping, galumphing grow. It overfloweth to an objectionable, four-digit degree, partly with routine ignorable emails (Family Fun in your area! Today's Science News Headlines!), and partly with emails that I really, really should answer. Some fun professional stuff, in a year when I'd pretty much resigned myself to not having a profession, some school stuff, some friend stuff, and a few, neglected, please get out your calendar emails.

(I'm hiding from those last, because I hate getting out my calendar - usually it laughs at me, and suggests two possible dates, roughly 2.6 months hence. Insert feeling-sorry-for-self bit here, followed by bracingly balanced bah, humbug.)

Trying to keep up, my emails are getting shorter and shorter. Here is today's, in response to a lovely human being who asked about egg replacement in a recipe for the Eldest's school.

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Re: egg replacement in gluten-free baking

1 egg:

1 tsp baking powder + 1.5 TB water + 1.5 TB oil

2 eggs:

1 tsp baking powder + 1.5 TB water + 1.5 TB oil

and

1.5 tsp Ener-G egg replacer + 2 TB water

3 eggs;

don't do it.

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Got it? Good.

On the upside, however, I did check my blog email for the first time in roughly 7 months. So, if you sent me an email, I'm on the job - and I wish to apologize for having had the gall to ever set up the email account to begin with, given that I was then (inevitably) going to lose the scrap of paper with the password. Pesach cleaning bonus: found it!

But I put aside my war with the inbox(es) on Monday, long enough to appreciate the 45 minute commute to the Eldest's school, and the 1.25 hr commute home from it. Holy freakin' moly, but it rained small lagoons. Bad time to have waterfront property, people. Hell, bad time to have property without a water repellent force shield.

As it poured, the Toddles and I munched on a bit of sunshine in a mango peel. The kid scooped up most of the mango, then grinned so beautifully that I *ahem* completely missed his swiping of the last two pieces.

That was good, Mum! he informed me, sure that I hadn't been paying attention to the mango bonanza by my elbow. I looked, mournfully, at the empty plate. Mango-goateed, the kid grinned. Can I have a flashlight? I need to go and shine light in the darkness.

Outside, rain plummeted, the river rose and water spouted through manhole covers. I looked at mango boy. Um, sure. But I think you just did.