My Damned Cup Runneth Over

This week several wonderful things happened: I graduated from physical therapy; Oakland friends Nancy and Chuck Overton and beloved Spaniel Sarah came to visit; I organized and launched both a lesbian book club and a lesbian gardening club at Oakmont; and I did my first six laps in the East pool here since I broke my hip. Even though the water was lovely and the temperature on my deck was 80, as soon as the sun went down I became quite chilled. I remembered the hot chocolate in Lyon, so attempted to make myself some. It couldn't be that hard, could it?

Most guests say how blessed I am to possess a massive Wolf range and microwave oven here.  They came with the house, and would be my last choice if I were the kitchen designer. First off I have never cooked with gas, and fail miserably at trying to adjust the heat. Soups regularly boil over or else they are tepid. Secondly I can never calculate how long the microwave should take to heat a cup of liquid. It often takes me three tries, or like last evening, my cup runneth over...
So, dear painter friends, here is a subject for you for a still life. You don't get to see the part that ran over the edge and down the wall.  Drat. There was not much left to drink! I went to bed with cold feet and quaking limbs.