What's intimidating me today:
Baking Merry's cheesecake.

I have baked a cheesecake before, and goodness knows it's not too hard. But it's just a tad bit fiddly, and I don't 'do' fiddly. That's why I am not a good engineer. Measurements? Meaningless details!

Merry's belated birthday party is this weekend and she wants a Cheese Party: all her guests will sample cheeses and write down what they think of each one. If she pushes for this on her tenth birthday, what will she ask for in another ten? Caviar tasting party? Truffles from around the Continent?

My parents are eating cheese, too, but they may very well be locked this very moment in their tiny beach shack in Oregon listening to winds gust over sixty miles an hour and waves crash not far from their thin walls. But my mother, who sounded absolutely drunk on life yesterday when I spoke with her, and my father, who is more reserved generally but also sounded very happy, assured me that they had bought emergency matches and candles and would be quite snug with their Scrabble game, cheese, Dave's Killer Bread, and a bottle of the best wine I have ever, ever tasted: Angelico, a red so smooth that you feel like a baby again. One can't help being a little envious of the hurricane lovebirds in their empty nest. They've managed to feather it quite nicely.