Welcome to Sturgis

This morning, a slick black gal is happier than the law allows.  She has finally figured out that her dad is here, it's not the weekend, so that means he's here all day, for HER.  They are outside right now in the back yard doing yard work, and Fred's wearing the bottom to a pair of my old soft, wonderful scrubs.  OK...that hurts.  Never mind they are unisex.  The fact that he can wear them is awwwful.  He said they were "tight"--I'm not seeing it but whatever.  He thinks he's less likely to get West Nile if he has on something long and he's put on a little bug spray as a chaser.  It's quite a look and he'd kill me if I posted a pic here.  Besides, you never want to piss off your yard man.

On another front, I have a new phrase to describe something lots of us do, but won't admit we do.  It's called cake forkage.  It works with any type of cake, but around here happens most often with a sheet cake--specifically the yellow cake with the chocolate and pecan frosting I made a few days ago.  Forkage is simply swinging past the cake, with your fork in hand, lifting the cling wrap, and proceeding to fork skinny bites, all the way across to keep the line straight, so no one will know you've been "forking".  It works in any direction unless or until there is a corner square piece left.  No way around it--if you forkage, someone's gonna spot the missing piece, and you are busted.  Ditto if you leave visible tine marks across the cake.  It kills me to watch the exquisite lengths certain people will go to, to avoid getting out a plate.  And I have to admit, forkage is fun.  Come on over to the Dark Side.  We have cake.

P. S.  Benji is in Sturgis, South Dakota, playing at the big Harley Rally, with half a million bikers. Oh, Lordy...