The Rockiest

Emotional baking, at it's core, is really the sugary manifestation of extreme emotions. Good, bad, undefinable. Matter of fact, the undefinable emotions, I find, are best for emotional baking. You sift, you ponder, you knead, you mull. Everything you do to an ingredient, you do to your own brain and psyche. Even more therapeutic with a glass of wine...
My most recent undefinable emotion came right as I bought my first one-way plane ticket. It was a quiet moment, no trumpeting fanfare, no booming announcement, but one click on the computer, and I was booked on a one-way to New York City. 
I was excited, scared, proud, unsure, relieved, and terrified all in the same nanosecond...
So I baked.
I chose "Three's A Crowd Rocky Road Bars," paying sugary homage to the road ahead that may, or may not, be rocky.
Upon explaining this to Mom, she gasped an immediate "Oh geeze, I hope not..." and then, I'm sure, began scheming how much money she can sneak into my bank account without damaging my pride. 

The Happy Baker should always have a fabulous apron to don when tackling a kitchen. It should reflect your personality, or what baking means to you, or how it makes you feel, or better yet, how you want people to feel when they are invited into your miraculous kitchen space. I imagine something shabby chic for myself, maybe with some cheeky embroidery, and most certainly, a big ol' butt bow. 

Couldn't find one, but I found this...shadow of my past, I suppose...

let it be known I RARELY take douchey mirror pics of myself. I'm not a wannabe body builder.

This recipe is so simple and quick. I enjoy bar recipes that require a crust/multiple layers because they're always much more impressive to the enjoyer. And lord have mercy, do I love a good marshmallow. 

Confession: Mom used to bribe me with marshmallows while potty training.....now I'm kind of embarrassed for putting that out there. Only because now I would demand a rocky road bar, because, you know, inflation.

Butter softening, people: it cannot be done in the microwave. You either have to plan ahead, or you stick 'em on the stove while the oven preheats, if your oven is underneath the stove. Otherwise, congratulations, you've buttered your microwave... (and I did).

Also, one of the side-effects of emotional baking is in spilled ingredients. Think about it: as you're unbridling your emotions, the same thing might happen to the flour in your bowl. It's kinda nice though :)

BAM. Done in like 15 minutes. Delicious in like forever. 

Next time I might even use more marshmallows, or maybe marshmallow fluff.

OR PEEPS. 

(wide-eyed, great idea thinking face)

It's like a delicious Martian planet surface or something equally nerdy...

Here's to hoping this will be the rockiest road I have to encounter ;)

Erin and Erin

Aren't we all a little emotional when it comes to baking?...

This year, I resolved to make resolutions that would actually take me all year, not just something I'd be excited about for, say, two weeks and then be distracted by all the great tv shows coming back on.
One resolution is: to log between 750-1000 running miles!! (I know...whoa).
And because who has the time for people to look at them and say "You look like a runner," my other, more relatable and universally beneficial resolution is:
To bake every recipe in Erin Bolger's "The Happy Baker: A Girl's Guide to Emotional Baking."

It's like a Julie and Julia thing, but with Erin and Erin, another emotional baker who had untamable curly hair growing up!

Kindred Spirits in white girl afros...

I began this morning with Jumbo Banana Pancakes for 2! I'll begin by making this statement: I actually don't really like pancakes, but I do like making them! I'll follow up with this statement: I'm single.

Nope, mine sure didn't look like that.

Since the recipe was specific for 2, and because I didn't want to be depressed, I halved it and made a "just for me"portion. So here I am, sending out "just for me" vibes into the Universe for 2013, and hoping they won't return to me in the form of "loneliness, carrying your groceries all by yourself" vibes.

The ultimate challenge in flipping. You can imagine what it looked like, don't need to tell you.

The trick is the proper amount of garnish to cover up what explodes in pancake tragedy when you try to flip it. Learning curve, it's just day one.
Whatever, these pancakes were awesome. They were like a flattened out blissful piece of banana bread, much like what I'm hoping this year will be like.

Just like my actual heart: made of powdered sugar.

To do list:
-Get a really cute apron.
-Get new running shoes.
-Get you to check her out at The Happy Baker blog!

Hello, Siri. Hello, Mrs. Captain America.

So vlogging might be my thing. But I don't like the word vlog because it wounds like a bodily function. I prefer "moving picture memoir."
Here's the second installment outlining my wishlist for the new iPhone5...

I hope this video acts as a copyright so no one steals my ideas....

It's a coming of age story...

It's a story of progress, of trials and tribulations. Of fears and doubts. Of vulnerability and hopes for approval....
The day I put out my first video blog.

And it goes a little something like this:

I'll get the hang of it.
Hopefully better than I've grasped the hang of writing more often. #SObadatthat

May the odds be ever in my favor...

Allow me to put down the paper bag I've been breathing into for the past two weeks in anticipation of and experiencing the first installment of the Hunger Games films to write a post. I'm such a huge fan. Don't know why I'm so emotionally invested in the story, maybe because I'm inspired by ordinary people being badasses, but the mere mention of the story or the characters renders me practically fetal.

This gets me thinking....how would I fare were I forced into a technologically controlled environment forced to survive against my own generation of trained killers not to mention the genetically altered elements all for the amusement of the over-privileged? Dramatic, I know. So I've compiled a list entitled:

HOW AND WHY I WOULD WIN THE HUNGER GAMES

1.) I act like I'm asleep when I'm not.

Fight or Flight....or act like you're asleep. In this case, act like you're dead. This would only work during the initial bloodbath at the cornucopia. I'd just act like I was dead and then roll away while everyone else was still fighting and no one would notice until I was long gone.

2.) I'd sing during my interviews.

Oh Heeeeyyy, fabulous sponsors!! If we can compare the Hunger Games to, say, American Idol, there's something wired in people to like other people who sing. That's not scientific, it's just observation.

3.) I'm resourceful.

Who can make a cat shelter out of a cardboard dress form?? My cat. But that's exactly my point. I think like a cat.

4.) I cover up my tracks and I'm a master of disguise.

When I was but a child, I used to sneak out of bed after my parents tucked me in and I would play dress-up and whatnot BUT I knew light was shining from underneath my door so shoved stuffed animals in front of the door crack so I went unnoticed. I wouldn't DREAM of lighting a fire at night. Sorry boutcha, girl from 10 or whatever... One night, I even ventured out to the stairs in my best dress-up getup (mostly dance recital costumes) and convinced my mom I was an orphan and needed a glass of water. She totally bought it..... (thanks for playing along, Mom)

5.) I'm not picky with meals.

I had five chips and a beer for dinner last night. Boosh.

And when all was said and done and victorious, I'd decorate my house in the Victor's Village according to the best quirky and quaint design elements I've found on Pinterest. And have lots of animals.

And my post-games talent would be cat whispering. And dress-up.

Were the odds ever in my favor....

Thirteen months later...

Let me begin with a haiku.

A haiku can't say
how long since I've posted here
I watched YouTube cats.

I was busy with other things besides watching cats on YouTube. I mean, I showered a few times. Said some funny one-liners.

But I digress, my last post was thirteen months ago, and I'm happy to note that it began with a cat picture. Well played, Erin. But I've missed writing. I've missed sharing the strange things that happen inside my head, like how I've made a game of assigning celebrity parents to people based on looks, like how my favorite part of my day is when four year olds tell me their favorite dinosaur is a T-Rex, like why those people at this Starbucks patio just stared at me for too long to be publicly acceptable. And now I'm wondering if I have banana walnut bread all over my face. Or if there's a small finch on my head. Or if I made a bodily function that I didn't hear because of my ear buds (rock on, Sinatra Pandora). I mean, why else would that guy have straight up craned his head up and over the wicker couch to assess me? I must look like I'm on tv....

Look at me, digressing again. The point is I found it important to blog again. My cat, Sofia Loren, whom you may recall from her own blog series, will mostly likely emerge after her blogging hiatus as well. What a follower.

Morning Musings

Who is supposed to get out of bed when you wake up and see this first?

So, I didn't.

Instead i thought of the chocolate cake I baked in the blizzard with my mom:

Maybe I just ate the batter.

The Blizzard of Oz

Airport saga of a lifetime.

Okay that's most likely a lie. I'm sure other people have recounted many more perilous tales than the one I'm about to spin, but I'm telling you, this was a doozie.

I'm scheduled to fly from St. Louis back to Orlando this past Monday after a whirlwind and lovely (not to mention frigid) long weekend of wedding planning (not mine) and family bonding. But hark, is that foul weather afoot? As you can guess, my 6:30 flight was cancelled as I watched disaster officials hold a press conference about battoning down the hatches in the Gateway City. So I got on another flight, which coincidentally rendezvoused in Kansas City, my hometown. Safe enough, right? If I get stuck in KC, at least I'll be home. I knew as soon as I texted the famous last words "I'll text you from KC," I was setting myself up for disaster.

The 45 minute flight across Missouri was smooth and relief set in as we began our descent.

"Ding!"

"Ladies and Gentleman, due to the inclement weather, we've actually been diverted to Tulsa, so we're gonna go ahead and land there because we don't have enough fuel to circle the airfield..."

Oh sh!t. I've never been stranded somewhere in the country before. But if Kevin McCallister could do it, so could I.

We land without a problem and flood into the terminal, all 150 angry and confused passengers scrambling to the same three ticketing agents who are just as confused as we are, except with plastered smiles.

I stood around for awhile, sporting my prairie print dress peaking out underneath a plaid pea coat (alliteration much?), with my Pepto-pink carryon and purple dinosaur skin shoulder bag. At least I'm exuding some style to mask my confusion and despair.

I sat for awhile, munching on the cinder-block sized bag of Velvet Creme popcorn while envious hungry passengers made jokes about sharing. Not a chance, sir.

I rolled up and down the terminal for awhile, the carryon equivalent to pacing, out of sheer boredom, to and from the Great American Bagel Company stand. But the line was too long and I was afraid of missing crucial information about where to scramble next.

At this point my options are bleak: get a hotel in Tulsa, but the airport was shut down for the next day, get on a flight to Dallas, get a hotel and fly to Orlando on the next flight that was open, or wait to see if we could refuel and get back to Kansas City. Maybe I'm passive, but I opted to wait.

Then a tiny miracle happened. An announcement was proclaimed that two flights were heading back to Kansas City while one flight was proceeding to Orlando! Great God of Moses, we're saved!!!

That was my cue to take action. I got the first boarding ticket to get on the plane to Otown, forfeiting my spot on the first Kansas City flight, got myself an asiago cheese bagel, and took a comfy row on the 747 in a whole leather row to myself. Ah, sweet relief and bliss as I reassured my family that I was headed back safe, the "all clear" for Dad to take his drowsy allergy medication.

"Ding!"

The chime of despair. The plan fell through and although the handful of passengers aboard the aircraft was situated and content to fly south, the powers that be still had us grounded due to lack of business interest. Inner panic ensued, but only after I literally waited for the stewardess to say she was joking. You know how SouthWest can be.

Packed up again, I rushed back up yet another jetway and back to the ticket counter, remarkably empty. Why? Because everyone else had boarded the plane back to KC, in my spot. If only I had someone to proclaim my undying love to, this would be a perfect place to say "STOP THAT PLANE!" or something dramatic, but TSA isn't keen on disruptions these days.

I peeked my head above the ticketing counter, which came up to my chin and ask the frazzled woman "Can I go back to Kansas City? My parents live there." To which she replied "Oh, that's great! Do they want company?" and gestured to an even more frazzled young Indian family of four whom I recognized from every plane I had boarded that day who had no choice but to go to Kansas City with the rest of us. But she was joking. Awkward for all of us.

Once again, I snagged the first boarding pass for this next flight. I was going back to KC, that is, if our flight crew shows up and we have enough passengers and the weather doesn't freeze our plane and there's enough of a flight crew...

Well, things fell into place and I flew home at 1:00 in the am to an antihistamine fogged father. Good to be back for a surprise vacation, all thanks to the Blizzard of Oz.

Moral of the story, make sure you have ALL of your belongings before angrily exiting a plane after an easy flight to your final destination has been canceled. And if you see my iPod tucked in a SouthWest seat back pocket, send it my way.

Digital addition

I invested in a new MacBook Pro!

Look at this wonderfully digitally altered picture of myself thinking of all the wonderful things I can do with my new computer!

Quote Unquote

People have been saying funny things around me as of late. I kept them in my rolodex of funny to share here:

"Every seagull is Jewish."

"We're just like you, only prettier."

"Boopy Hurthday."

"I just calmly and respectfully said very hateful things to her."

"Leaving the flask......was a bad idea"

"I do NOT miss smoking in restaurants. I walked in and I was like 'Omigod, I have to wash my jeans.'"

"You can tell who the actors are cuz they know how to hold plates."

"Marriage is about love,"...."or a green card..."

"I can't do this math. I don't live in a grocery store."

American Pie

So I had a whirlwind two days at home this past weekend and I managed to squeeze in a little exploring with my Hipstamatic and found some things I may send into National Geographic....





A "sleeping" dog statue


A tiny handmade clay village




A mouse, just hangin out...




A farm band




A backyard prince




The biggest crap game ever



Money just blowing in the wind.




A "me" sized koala




Creepy doll wearing a headband...naturally.




A duck phone.




And Dick Van Dyke.


Nostalgia is fun. And hilarious when you live in what could be considered a flea market by some.

#1 Stunner

I've realized I'm at my best when I first wake up, looking like a #1 Stunner. So I documented a week's worth of early bird dazzling hairdos that you may or may not want to sport to your next formal occasion.





The Emo.





The Don King





The Dust Bowl





The Edward Scissorhands





The Rugrats





The Cyndi Lauper





The Divine Halo



It's okay if you're jealous.

Yep

Things could be worse...


Happy
Summer

;)

Snaps in poetry corner

Ink a horoscope inside my wrist to
Advise me, remind me, perscribe me the astral counsel to
Trust.
Here's hoping my veins absorb the message
While my feet tread and trod and traipse and
Twirl.
Size six kicks up sticks and dust that must mean a path is being made and laid and obeyed.
And you couldn't promise
And you were too honest
And you weren't modest
And you all inked a horoscope in me as a gift for me to sift and lift after I set you
Adrift.




Snaps if you feel it!

Fashion. Put it all on me.

You know how Ke$ha wakes up every morning feeling like P. Diddy? Well after I fell asleep last night with wet hair, I woke up this morning feeling like Bob Dylan. After pondering whether or not I could pull off the look, I began pondering what other looks I could pull off and before I knew it, I had a bathroom fashion show. Sponsored by Mercedes-Benz.



A t-shirt that visited the tshirt doctor with coordinating mini and headband.




A 1940's inspired beach outfit, complete with driving gloves. (Thank you, Bry muffin) Fitness tip: The higher the waist of the skirt, the less crunches required...




Bird girl. This look is inspired by feathers...and turning a skirt into a top.




Is that a powerful and seductive Grecian goddess or just an ingeniusly wrapped H&M scarf? I'll never tell.






Where is my beautiful grape-feeding slave man?!



Oops, this'll do.




Ghetto-faaaaab. Yes, that's my hair. And yes, those are my...

So I know what you're thinking. And yes, I guess this IS what I do in my free time. And NO I didn't go about my day with Bob Dylan hair. But now I know I have options.

Prequel

Here's a follow up/prequel to Jessica's Daily affirmation.



Again, let's take a lesson and live each day like little Jessica, who apparently is a tween now. But whatever, I'm 25, and I still love a good pillow bomb. ;)

Remember When...

Confidence came this easily?





I'm gonna try and begin each new day on my bathroom countertop like this. You should too.

Space Day #3

I mean, I know my job can be pretty cool, but I don't get to do this:




Rocket into outer space, that is.

Whisper...

A little secret to me...or post it on the Internet in front of everyone's faces. Either/or.
I haven't posted about PostSecret's Sunday Secrets in ages, but what better time than on a random Thursday? Here are the gems from this week, and my accompanying witty banter:



I'm sorry, I confused this one with a fortune cookie. My b.


I'm a huge supporter of leggings, I wore some today actually, but some ill-fitting leggings do allude nudity. Not the point.


Is this referring to the idiot that illustrated this postcard? I'm not getting it. Regardless, this is sound advice.


This is called compassion. Or your average theme park people watching experience.


Hell, I pretend people fall in love with ME! I had three imaginary boyfriends at work today. But then I got tired of imaginary serial dating and wanted to settle down...


If JK Rowling can do it in 7 books, so can you.



My secret:
I think my cat judges my outfits. If I ask her if she likes it and she doesn't immediately meow in an upglide, I feel like I have to change.