Spring seems to be just around the corner, according to some of what I noticed while walking around my neighborhood today:

Gramma used to think, not incorrectly, that sometimes my head got in my way. You just can’t do things the easy way, can you, she’d ask. Often this isn’t true, except when it utterly is.

I’ve been hankering after her Blitz torte, which is a two-layer, meringue-topped cake with pineapple and cream filling, something she used to make quite frequently and which I haven’t had since, I think, before she went to live with my folks. It’s been a long time. I have the recipe for it, though, so I decided that this year I was going to make a birthday cake and that that was going to be it.

There are a few minor causes for concern to that plan. I have never successfully made meringue. I don’t especially like to follow directions exactly. I don’t have two cake pans of the same size.

While I knew I could wash and reuse my one round cake pan, I decided instead that I had these heart-shaped mini cake pans Karen gave to me years ago and that they were probably together roughly the same size as what was called for in the recipe. Never mind that this was going to make it far more challenging to remove each piece from the pan intact. I’d decided this was the best way to go, and we were going this way.

I ended up not making the cake last week for a couple reasons, but ultimately this was a good thing, I think. Instead, I embarked upon it this afternoon and finished it up tonight.

I separated nearly twice as many eggs as the recipe called for, first because one egg was bad and I hadn’t been pouring the egg whites into a fresh container from the one I was separating them over, so I lost two egg whites when the third was bad. Another I broke the yolk when I cracked the egg. (The two spare yolks and the broken egg went into the fridge for use another day.) I’d originally intended to whip the egg whites first using my Kitchen Aid beater attachment, but then I made the cake batter first and didn’t have the bowl available. So I had to whip the egg whites by hand. After half an hour of whisking, I didn’t have any peaks, let alone stiff ones, but it was definitely thicker, so I decided it was good enough.

Four-plus hours after embarking upon this baking journey, I have at least two loads of dishes to handwash, ten wonky cakelets (in which nine of them had the meringue topping separate from the cake when I attempted to get them out of the pans — why does meringue want to stick to everything except the cake itself?!), and still no cake. Tomorrow afternoon I’ll make the filling using the cream I had to buy after we discovered my older cream had clotted (I’ll make scones).

There were tears earlier, so it’s good I didn’t try to make this on my birthday. God, I hope it tastes okay. I’ll have put six hours into this damn thing before we ever get a bite…

I could have done things the easy way, but then it wouldn’t have been my way, would it?

Now pardon me while I go put a dent in those dishes…

Tomorrow would be my guess, but maybe Monday if the sun doesn’t come out until then…

I’m not sure why I’m excited by a long weekend, since right now every day is a weekend for me, but still I am. Over the next three days I’m hoping to:

• Go see Jasper Fforde, who is promoting his new book locally on Monday. One of my gifts yesterday was a gift card to that bookstore, so I will be getting a book signed, too.
• Catch up with some former coworkers for drinks on Sunday when they come to town.
• Hit the farmers market. I’ve had several salads this week, so I need some more greens.
• Put our new mattress pad on the bed.
• Write about books here.
• Bake a cake. My birthday baking got bumped by more social activities, so I decided to postpone it until either Sunday or Monday, when Rudi will be back to help me eat it.
• Phone my brother on Sunday to celebrate his birthday and a friend whose call I missed yesterday.
• Head up to one of the city’s indie bookstores that is celebrating its grand re-opening tomorrow after changing hands.
• Clean out the fridge.
• Dig out the bread maker. I’ve been buying bread, but I have the means, time, and ingredients to make it myself, so I really should.
• Complete a couple books. Akata Witch will likely get wrapped up, as may The Woman Who Smashed Codes.
• Finish knitting the sixth strip on my shawl and figure out if I’m doing a seventh one or not.
• Watch some dvds. I picked up Top Hat, The Thomas Crown Affair, and The Awful Truth at the library this afternoon.

How about you? What’s on your to-do (or to-not-do) list this weekend?

My birthday is Thursday and I’m somewhat at a loss for how to mark the day. Rudi won’t be home until 5 or so, which means I have most of the daytime hours to amuse myself before he comes home to join me for pizza and ice cream and cake. Because I’m currently at home all day, simply not being at work is not really as special as it would normally be.

Ideally, I’d find something low-key, but not humdrum, to do with my day…

I could visit a bookstore.

I could wander around town collecting all the freebies I’ve been emailed about from various restaurants.

I could go to a museum — either a free one or one that costs money — or a historic site — Frederick Douglass’ house or the Belmont-Paul Women’s Equality National Monument are both high on my list of local sites I’ve never visited.

I could visit the Library of Congress, where they currently have a baseball exhibit.

I could go to the zoo or the Botanic Garden. (It’s supposed to be in the mid-50’s and dry, so the former isn’t a problem.)

I could spend time outside with a book or my knitting.

I could catch a film that Rudi doesn’t want to see (he wants to see all of them, though, so that’s probably not a great plan…)

I could see if you have any suggestions I haven’t thought of…

How would you spend your birthday?

I thought I’d share a sense (or five) of what’s going on in the Burrow tonight:

Tasting: Hot chocolate, which I just finished.

Hearing: The relative quiet after turning off my audiobook at the end of the chapter. Corey’s purrs. Rudi’s even breathing from the other room. The hum of the refrigerator. Cars passing by on wet roads.

Seeing: The pink glow of the fairy lights here in the living room. The glistening of the bushes above our window well reflecting the streetlight and the wintry mix. The coffee table, for the first time in a month. Piles of books to read.

Smelling: Not much. Very slightly, my deodorant, and, oddly, since none has been brewed since Thursday night, coffee. I must have stirred up the bag when I pulled out the cocoa canister earlier.

Feeling: The weight and warmth of Corey draped across my wrists. The softness of polar fleece pants. The slight ache in my head from the storm. Tired and ready for bed. Proud that because of that I will save my new-found curiosity about why “canister” has only one “n” rather than two until tomorrow.