bright side

The cakes survived the night, and I achieved excellent texture and color for the frosting.

Though I have not lived up to my mother's cake-frosting prowess, I feel pretty awesome about how these turned out.

Sadly, when Emily bakes in Provo, nothing goes perfectly. The tragedy of this project came when I tried to carry the biggest, chocolate cake down the stairs from my third story apartment while wearing heels. (I was on my way to church, though hindsight tells me that I should have substituted my pumps for flats for the walk up to campus.) After clearing just one flight of stairs, I lost my balance, caught myself on the handrail, and tipped the cake plate just enough to destabilize the top-heavy cake and send it tumbling down.

I wasn't about to let that much butter and eggs worth of cake go to waste, so I picked up the top, which held together decently, stuck it back on top of the base, and returned it and the smaller cake to my kitchen table. The best part about it all was that instead of feeling devastated, I laughed. I had just talked to Grandma about looking on the bright side, and this was an excellent test of my optimism. I'm so grateful that I have the opportunity to learn lessons like this with overall insignificant things like smashed cakes so that when greater disappointments come up, I'll have had some practice.

I sill classify the cakes as a success because my roommates and I--and anyone else who stopped by today--benefited from the two large cakes we had sitting on our kitchen table all day. I loved sharing my creations. I loved laughing over smashed cake.

day of domesticity

I love long weekends because the extra day off from classes mean that I can put off homework and spend almost an entire Saturday doing the household tasks that keep me sane. Today, I did a little bit of accounting homework, but soon abandoned academic pursuits for Big Gulps and a Red Box rental of "Julie and Julia" with Charlotte. The movie was great and made me look forward to the day when I will have a kitchen that's all mine and can read cookbooks and try new recipes. I really loved something that Julia Child says in the movie about not apologizing or making excuses for what you make. Whenever I take baked goods somewhere, I always find myself apologizing for some aspect of the item, but Julia changed my ways today. No more apologizing for me. When I share my food with people, I will take it and be happy with how it is.

My unapologetic culinary ways will begin tomorrow when I take two giant cupcakes to Relief Society. If I do say so myself, however, there isn't much that calls for apology with these cakes. Unlike my last attempt at giant cupcakes, neither of these exploded nor came out of the pan in multiple pieces. Hooray! I'm keeping my fingers crossed that all goes well when I frost the cakes tomorrow morning.

In between the sister movie/knitting time and cake baking, I did three loads of laundry, including towels and sheets, meaning that I get to hop into a clean, freshly made bed in about half and hour. In fact, the anticipation of putting on pajamas and hopping into bed amid Tide-fresh cotton is strong enough to keep me waiting for my pictures to load. My apologies for the lack of visuals. Oooh! One just popped up! I'll be sure to post photos of the completed cakes, sans apologies.

May your sheets feel as wonderful as mine tonight!

take the long way home

I love my walk home from campus. At the end of the day, I leave campus knowing more than I did at the beginning, and the feeling of having filled my mind with information about accounting, the New Testament, and African Bushmen is thoroughly satisfying. I love distancing myself from the library, Tanner Building, and Eyring Science Center as I head toward the edge of campus. The ten or so minutes it takes me to walk back to my apartment serve as moments of solitude, when I am left with my iPod and whatever else is going through my mind. On my way home today, I decided to snap some pictures to capture my route.

Please note the friendly reminder written in creepy handwriting posted at the start of the path.

I also enjoy leaving campus because it means that I get to walk down the stairs instead of up.
Happy Friday!

*How do you get home at the end of the day?

essence of a thursday

Preliminary side story: Putting up decorations that go against all of my principles of style is a regular aspect of my job. The inner conflict this creates within my psyche is a tricky one to balance. For example, while shopping online for new decor on Tuesday, my boss requested my opinion regarding the "tumbling leprechauns" and "plush monkeys" she was considering for purchase from the Oriental Trading Company catalog. Regarding physics decor, my opinion doesn't count, so I end up agreeing upon the purchase of frightening decor far more often than I feel comfortable doing so. Tuesday, I decided that I could no longer endorse such investments, so I coined the "well, they go with our other decorations" line in response to my boss's inquiries. This is a completely true statement and keeps me from contributing to the putting of stuffed pink primates in our display cases. Unfortunately for our display cases, we will soon be receiving supplements to our Valentine's and President's day decor, and I will feel minimal guilt for contributing to their presence.

And now to my originally intended post:

Being one who thoroughly enjoys domesticity, being able to help make 18 apples pies at work yesterday was a pleasure. Contrary to physics department protocol, we made homemade crusts! I was in heaven. However, after mixing up light, flaky, completely unprocessed pie crusts, I was dismayed to find the filling for our pies sitting in the corner of the kitchen in a tub. A big, plastic, three gallon tub. Out of morbid curiosity, my co-workers and I read off the ingredients. The top two on the list were preservative-ridden apples and high-fructose corn syrup. Throughout the baking stages, my co-worker Lesley and I noticed that when high fructose corn syrup boils out of its pie shell and becomes exposed to direct oven heat, the composition changes interestingly. We found that the cooked syrup could be peeled from the sides of the pan, similarly to how one would peel off rubber cement or silly putty. In response to our concerns that the filling may not be edible, boss Shelena swore up and down that syrupy filling baked safely inside the pie shells retained its proper composure. I'm a trusting person, so today Lesley and I mustered up our courage and each tried a slice of the pie. I'm normally opposed to eating desserts that require courage to taste, but I was hungry and feeling daring.

The verdict: I'm trying to forget about what I ate and move past this poor choice.

On a happier note, I bought my very first baking ingredients canisters! Now I can make fructose-free baked goods with fresh, easily accessible flour. No more scooping out of messy bags for me! The canisters came in a four-pack from Walmart; flour, sugar, and dehydrated refried beans claim three, and I'm keeping the fourth open for when a need arises. I really really love them. I made a batch of biscuits tonight to celebrate.

And to top off my day, Mom and I caught each other on the phone after a tiring round of phone tag. We enjoyed a full conversation and it was wonderful. Love you, Mom!

*What was the flavor of your Thursday?

sighting

This was what I found under my kitchen table tonight. I have no words. Only laughter.