My hairdresser, Carol, had surgery a couple of weeks ago. She is now SH's hairdresser, too. He thought I go to her just because she is inexpensive. Does my haircut look bad to you? I demanded.
No, he answered, but you used to go to SuperCuts when you lived in Austin. You are frugal.
Time for a random churros y chocolate photo.
That's because someone recommended Esmeralda to me and she just happened to work at SuperCuts, I told him. I am not willing to sacrifice my hair just to save money. I am not that thrifty. I mean, I am, but I look for arbitrage opportunities, but there is no such thing with hair. Esmeralda worked there because she liked the hours and I always tipped her a LOT. She was FABULOUS. And may I point out to you that you maintain that your hair is SO SPECIAL that NOBODY can cut it but well guess what you like how CAROL cut it so I guess she is OK so maybe it's not just that she is inexpensive is why I go to her?
Well yeah, he admitted.
So. Carol had surgery and I called her house on Saturday to see how she was doing and when I could take a casserole over but she didn't return my call. Then I called her at work on Monday but she didn't return my call. I was getting worried. What if she was dead?
Yes, I always go straight to the worst case scenario, which is what makes me such a good strategist. I plan for the worst and I am always prepared. SH plans for the best, which is why he is always so stressed when we go to the airport and Oh No! There is Traffic! Why? Why? He has allowed exactly enough time to get there under Ideal Circumstances and now we are going to be late. Sometimes, I wouldn't mind missing the plane but I can't talk about that here. Be my facebook friend if you want to know about that.
Me? I allow for an earthquake, a tornado, and four accidents, so I get there with time to spare, which means I stroll up to the gate, get a mocha, sit, relax, watch people dressed in clothes I wouldn't wear to clean my trash cans, and read.
Back to Carol. I stopped at the salon on Tuesday, spoke to another stylist, and learned that Carol was alive and back to work. I made a macaroni, cheese and chicken casserole and Marta's flan cake to deliver on Wednesday. Actually, I had made the cakes on Sunday, because I wanted to take one to Lenore's. Marta's recipe calls for making one cake in a Bundt pan, but I split it into two loaf pans.
I de-panned -- un-loafed? -- the first one after it had been cooling for ten minutes and it went kerplooey all over the plate, onto the counter and, I discovered last night, onto the wall, so I poured it into a tupperware and plotted my next move. It looked nothing like Marta's cake. Hers is perfect. Beautiful. Her baking always is. She has that magic touch.
I left Carol's cake in the pan. Told Lenore hers was a cake/pudding and had a little taste before Lenore washed the tupperware.
After three days in the fridge, when I unmolded - that sounds like an actual cooking term -- Carol's cake, it held its shape. Mostly. There was some broken part on top. But not enough broken that I could actually take advantage of it.
If you know what I mean.
So I did what any of you would have done.
Oh don't lie.
You know you would have.
I cut a piece off the end.
And told Carol that it broke when I was taking it out of the pan and I had to fix it.
It was yummy.