miniature disasters and minor catastrophes

I don't want to talk about how implementing the Bedtime went tonight. Suffice to say, the baby is asleep, and that is what matters. Meltdowns aside, he was asleep and I was arranging mise en place by 8pm. I decided on Busy-Day Cake, the recipe that I mentioned yesterday. Since I followed it exactly as Molly adapted and wrote it, I won't re-post the recipe.
A good way to start the night, post Bedtime Meltdown: dark ale and unsalted butter.

Mise en place.

Whisked dry ingredients.

Ready to bake.

What I would like to know is: is there any baker out there that doesn't lick the beater bars? Or at least scrape the sides of the bowl and devour the remaining batter? I love batter. I don't care about raw eggs. After all, Gaston ate dozens of raw eggs, and look how strong and dashingly handsome he turned out.
The cake is now cooling on a wire rack. It was so simple, so easy, so relaxing. Some women get pedicures to relax and feel good, I bake. It's like therapy, but cheaper and with much less talking. And more quality beer.
Next on my agenda:
find the perfect (pearfect?) recipe for the two beautiful bosc pears I have
devour the new cookbooks I borrowed from the library (A Platter of Figs, Veganomicon, How to be a Domestic Goddess)
vacuum