But we've got our love to pay the bills!

If you recognize what song that comes from, you get seventy-two points. And also a digital high-five from me. I will tell you what song that comes from next time.

So, we got some more bills for Mike's hospital adventure, and we might be living with our families for the next seventeen years. But whatev. We've already had our initial freak out, so I'm at peace with it. Namaste.

In other news, that illness that I mentioned last time was not a one-day thing. It lasted ALL WEEK. And I'm STILL sick. Well, not as bad. The fever lasted a couple more days after I wrote that post and I've had a sinus headache and furiously running nose ever since. It's disgusting. Katie had it pretty bad too, and we've been sickies together. I actually got really excited today because she sounds like normal again--and by that I mean she sounds like slowly letting the air out of a balloon.

We had a fantastic weekend. Thursday, Mike's sister Amy and her family came up and hung out with us until Sunday night, meaning that Katie met all of her cousins (Amy has three kids) (and they are the only cousins Katie has). Oh my goodness they were cute!

I'm not allowed to put pictures of the two younger ones up because they're still foster kids, and it wouldn't be fair to put up a picture of Spencer without them, but I might do it anyhow.

Okay, never mind. My parents' computer hates my SD card, so there are no pictures. Maybe next time.

Anyhow, the cousins were really cute. Like, ridiculously so. And it was really fun to hang out with Amy and Jared. We spent all weekend playing games and getting greeted by people in Mike's parents' ward whom we don't know but who seem to know exactly who we are. They were the same people who got mad at Mike the Sunday before because he dared to come to church without his cute wife and baby for everyone to see. (Katie and I were deathly ill that week) (but we did not die, so the illness is no longer described as deathly).

In more other news, I no longer have confidence in myself as a baker. See, when we were in Portland, we went to Powell's Books, a used and new bookstore the size of a city block. Like, they give you a map when you get there so you don't get lost for fourteen years. And I bought a recipe book devoted entirely to chocolate. It's beautiful.

And today Sarah and I ventured into the book to make one of the easier recipes, chocolate slab cake. We figured it would be delicious and thick, like Texas Sheet Cake. Unfortunately, there were a few . . . um . . . setbacks.

So, we put the cake in the oven, cleaned up the kitchen so that our mess wasn't huge, then put some chocolate on the stove to make the icing. Before we finished that, we heard the buzzer, pulled the cake out, and stuck a toothpick in . . .

. . . and realized that we had never turned on the oven. When we opened the oven, Sarah was like, "whoa, it looks exactly like it did when we put it in." Including the spreading from the spatula. 'Cause the oven was cold. Embarrassing.

So we turned on the oven, waited for it to preheat and set the timer for slightly less than the timer said. A little while later, I made the icing, and then we pulled the cake out. After it was cool, we turned it out and poured the icing on it.

The icing was delicious, semisweet and melty. The cake . . . well, we may have forgotten some water or something, because it was very, very, very dry. And slightly burnt because we kept the cake in there while preheating. Gross. I feel very embarrassed.

Sometime later this week we're going to make a white chocolate torte. Hopefully it will be much more delicious. Especially because I'm not particularly a fan of buttermilk cakes and the white chocolate one will not be a buttermilk cake.

Maybe I'll make it if Mike gets one of the many jobs he's supposed to be applying to. He's already applied to a few at St. Luke's and St. Alphonsus hospitals. We're crossing our fingers.