Nuts! There weren’t even any in my chocolate fudge cupcakes, but that didn’t stop someone from sampling them. I suspect this guy in particular:
Don’t let his “cuteness” distract you. He is a brilliant and conniving international super-villain in the underbelly of the sciurine world…
Photo courtesy of http://statici.behindthevoiceactors.com
…and apparently, a lover of chocolate fudge cupcakes!
As noted earlier this week, I am in the process of baking my brains out (or what’s left) for our church community yard sale on Saturday. We are raising money to help the homeless in the city, and I am in charge of a bake table. It would have been a great idea if…
- I wasn’t “baking-challenged”;
- My kitchen counter workspace was bigger than a sheet of paper; and
- We weren’t experiencing a heat wave.
Temperatures were in the 30s (Celsius) yesterday. On the way home from work, I passed a snow plough truck. Only in Canada…but I digress.
I received some distressing news yesterday and started a migraine, so I left work a few minutes early to clear my head…by grocery shopping. Then I went to the chiropractor, the bank, the post office, and home to bake a dozen strawberry cupcakes, 2 dozen chocolate fudge cupcakes, a dozen tea biscuits, and 2 dozen “fiddle diddle” cookies, plus supper. I had to wash bowls and beaters in-between projects.
Needless to say, I was a hot, sweaty mess when Hubby got home (not a sexy kind of hot & sweaty)! But I completed all the cooking and baking in 2 hours, an incredible feat unto itself, and even more incredibly, with NO TEARS! I had worked like a well-oiled machine in my tiny, ugly vintage kitchen, balancing my recipe book on the kitchen sink ledge, stacking plastic containers of cooling cupcakes on the microwave, and laying out ingredients on the cluttered dining table (right over the Game of Life). I even used the back porch to cool chocolate fudge cupcakes while I tossed in home-made biscuits, sautéed vegetables, boiled pasta and stirred cookie dough.
I left the cupcakes outside for less than 10 minutes.
I never saw the actual culprit, but his razor-sharp claws and fangs made fast work of those cupcakes – at least 3…in each tray. A little path of crumbs petering out down the steps. I shouted “oh balls”, expecting Hubby to say something pithy like “not balls…cupcakes”. I think he noted my sagging shoulders and clenched fists, and decided to bite his tongue and retreat from the kitchen, no sudden movements.
I scanned the horizon looking for the perpetrator, feeling his beady little black eyes scan me with a twitch of his whiskers.
The rich, moist, dark chocolate fudge cupcakes were binned, along with my motivation and sense of purpose. I ate my dinner and crawled into bed in the fetal position for a few hours, to console my wounded pride.
Tonight, I have to melt chocolate and decorate 48 cake pops (I forgot some in my parents’ freezer – 3 hours away). I still have a migraine, I can’t guarantee there won’t be tears…but I can guarantee this:
Nuts to you, Red Squirrel! I’ve got my eye on you.
You will rue the day you ate my chocolate fudge cupcakes!