Joggers

Well I had a few moments while my nectarine applesauce cake is baking, so I thought I'd write a post. I was out and about today, to the primary care clinic to drop off a prescription and to the food bank for this months' supply of already-perished perishables.

Along with the 4 cans of pork and beans in the government surplus label, and the obligatory multi-packs of Raman Noodles, I got a bag of nectarines that were so far past ripe they had turned to rotted mush.

Anytime I see fruit that far past its prime I am reminded of my backyard at home where I grew up. It had an apple tree, a peach tree, a plum tree and a scupernong vine. None of them bore edible fruit. What they did bear, was a two inch thick carpet of squashed fruit that made running through the back yard while barefooted worse than running the gamut through hot coals. I can still feel squishy plums oozing between my toes when I think about it or when I smell too-ripe fruit.

Some of the nectarines were worth salvaging so I quickly gave them a bleach bath and cut up the pieces to keep. I ended up with about a cup of fruit and so I decided to bake a cake.

While I was heading up J Street today I got stopped by a murderous flock of Joggers. Now, for those of you who've read my blog for a while, you know that I dislike large blocks of charity joggers ALMOST as much as I dislike Her Unctuousness Rachael Ray and her Garbage Bowl.

That garbage bowl, or GB as she likes to call it for short, is what we called a Slops when I was growing up. And it always made me gag to have to empty the slops to the pigs, because my Aunts were determined to kick the City Kid out of me so they always made me scrape that bowl over the pig pen with my bare hands. Which was way, way, way worse than running barefoot through a yard full of rotting, slimy plums, I guarantee you! Once I got old enough I demanded a big serving spoon to scrape the bowl, but the damage was done. I just cannot handle that bowl of slops that RR has so proudly on her counter. She just thinks she's soooo down-homey!

So today's joggers clotting up the street with their huffing and puffing, required 2 police cars in front, 2 police cars behind as well as 3 vehicles marked "Volunteers" and 5, yes 5 motorcycle cops. Somehow I just don't understand why that kind of manpower is needed to escort those idiots through the streets of Sacramento. Do the cops expect them to get robbed or pelted with rotted plums? Honestly, I thought it must be the Governator or the President passing by when I first saw all the hoopla.

I wanted to roll down my window and yell abuse at them, plus a few helpful suggestions like, "Why not run on the SIDEWALK you morons? That's what sidewalks are FOR!!!!" Really, why can't they run single file on the sidewalk? Why do they have to run down the middle of the street in large, straggling clumps? What is UP with that?

I want to know the person who first came up with the whole concept of charity jogging and throw the slops on him! It just makes no SENSE to me! What does running have to do with anything? Why didn't they invent an event like a 'charity day in the park' or 'reading for charity' or something QUIET and non-traffic clogging? Jogging for charity doesn't call attention to anything except the fact that you've just made dozens of people late for work.

Oh, good! I finished venting about joggers just as the oven timer dinged! I'm going to frost this cake with maple frosting. This cake turned out really dense and flat, so I'll refrain from sharing the recipe with you until I get that little glitch out of it. But why the 4 cupcakes you ask? Ahhh! That's my little baker's secret! I always bake a cupcake or two first, so I can see how the recipe bakes up, and so that I can always have my cake and eat it, too!