Time to bake the brownies...

That's what I've been doing this afternoon-- baking brownies. Four pans in all, two different kinds. Tomorrow will be cake baking-- a carrot cake and an angel food, I think. My husband will drive up to Royer's Cafe and buy some fruit pies. And why are all these calorie-laden foods going to be on our dining room table? Because we invited a huge list of people this weekend... people my husband works with, friends from Clear Lake, neighbors from here.

If I were living in NY, I would have just gone to the closest Italian bakery and ordered cakes and cookies and pies, and I would have been proud to put everything on our table. But we've never found a bakery like that here. Not in Houston, and certainly not here in the country. There is a little bakery in town here and we tried it once-- tasted right out of box, from a mix. Not exactly a 'real' bakery.

And so... I bake. Which isn't a problem. The problem part is not tasting everything. I cut all those brownies into squares this afternoon and there were so many little crumbly parts that were so tempting. I put them all in a bowl... they can be used to put on top of the BlueBell ice cream which we'll also have at the party. There will be so many sweet things at the party this weekend that everyone will have a sugar-buzz.

The weather has turned into Summer. I think Spring lasted all of 28 minutes before the temperatures got up to the Summer mark. We're still waiting for rain, which we haven't seen since January or early February. The wildflowers are blooming, but not as full and as carpet-like as last year. I'm hoping that the wild yellow daisies will continue to pop up out of the dry ground and brighten up all the green fields.

With the surprise onslaught of the heat, the chickens have been resting from their egg-laying. The only eggs I've been finding have been from Scarlett and PittyPat. Both Prissy and Daisy have been on an egg-strike, and Audrey only gives us an egg when she's truly in the mood, which she clearly hasn't been lately.

I even walked all around the yards, looking under rose bushes and palms, inside and around the barn, underneath the cottage, in the flowerbeds around the house. I thought maybe Prissy and Daisy found a new spot to use as a nest. I didn't find any eggs around the property, so I'm guessing they're just not laying right now. A real ranch wife would have had those two hens in the oven already and new hens in the coop. But I am far from a 'real' ranch wife. About as far as one can get, actually.

Sooner or later, the five hens that we have will all stop laying eggs. "And then what?" said my husband one day. "Then I guess we either buy some new chickens or buy eggs from the store," said I. "And what happens with the hens that we have?" he wanted to know. "Well, we keep them, of course. What else?"

His answer to all of the above: "City girl." Yes, I am. And once all the brownies and cakes are done and the dining room is all set for company, I will make sure my nails are polished and my best shoes are on my feet and not in my closet. City girl indeed.