Hey there, Cupcake

I now cringe when I think about every cupcake I've ever made. They should have got straight down the garbage disposal. I passed them off as something good. Hah! My world was revolutionized this Friday when I spent three hours making the most scrumptious cupcakes yet, under the tutelage of master cake maker Judy, aka my fake brother's mother.

It all started (okay, well not all of it) when I went over to my sister's house a few weeks ago. Judy, her mother in law, had made her a birthday cake. It was chocolate with peanut butter frosting. So delicious. I ate a giant piece. I told her I wanted Judy's recipe. Judy had made the wedding cakes for my sister and fake brother's wedding. They're good. Thus, my sister arranged a cake making lesson for February 12th.

The rest of it started several years back, like junior year of college. I got really into cupcakes after discovering the blog Cupcakes Take the Cake. I was into all things cupcake. I tried to get good at it but my homemade frosting really sucked. I tried various recipes, but the frosting was always too runny and not conducive to crafting into beautiful swirly decorations. But I really liked to decorate them.

For a brief moment in college, my friend Liz and I were going to start a cupcake/cookie business called Suite Delivery. We would deliver fresh baked goods every Sunday to the students living in the dorms, straight to their doors. Fifty-cents each. Sadly, it never came to pass.

I have two tubs full of candy colored sprinkles, various cupcake papers, toppers, food dye, frosting tips, etc. I'm also very excited about the ruffly apron I acquired circa November 2009. I had all the supplies, yet my cupcakes were below par.

Until Judy.

When I got to her house on Friday night, she divulged all her secrets to me. Recipes were written on the backs of envelopes. Inhaling the very scent of the various frostings made me nearly fall over from ecstasy. We made 152 cupcakes. One-hundred fifty-two.

 

(not the cupcakes I made)

We made chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting. Vanilla cake with lemon filling, topped with a vanilla-almond buttercream frosting and raspberry filling. Cherry chip cake with pink cherry flavored frosting. It was all scrumptious. Think of the high you might get from smoking an illegal substance and times it by ten.

Judy showed me how to properly fold parchment paper and make it into a pastry bag. She talked about her early days in cake making class, working under the head baker of Gerry Frank's Konditorei.

In the end, I came home with 30 mouth-watering cupcakes. I ate one for breakfast on Saturday morning, and it was divine.

Kevin's Grief

I was on the dance floor, twinkling lights overhead, classic oldies playing tunes. My new bride and I had finished our first dance. She was absolutely radiant. Her white dress tucked in at her tiny waist, and her cascading train swished as she walked. Now we were trying to rake in the dough for our honeymoon by doing the money dance. She had a row of 15 men lined up behind her, waiting to give her cash for a dance. So far I had danced with my sister, my grandma, and my great-aunt Teresa.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Grace. She was one of my good friends from college and I had a feeling she was just coming over because she felt sorry for me. I wasn’t sure if I should have invited her to the wedding, considering my past feelings for her, but my wife convinced me that it was fine. Well, that’s not the whole truth. My wife doesn’t know the whole story. There wasn’t that much to tell. I was turned down.

Grace smiled as she walked up to me. She held out a twenty. I took her hand as the DJ put on the next song. I didn’t really say anything to her, since I was watching my wife dancing eight feet away from me with one of the groomsmen. Grace leaned into me, so that her mouth was right near my ear.

She whispered, “Out of everybody, I loved you the best. I wanted you the most.”

My gut jumped. Why was she telling me this now? On the day of my wedding? It’s what I wanted her to say four years ago, not now. Definitely not now.

“Why are you telling me this? What do you expect me to do?”

“Nothing,” she said softly. “I’ve never wanted you to do anything. I just need you to know that I love you. I don’t need anything back.”

What was I supposed to say? I loved you before. Before her. Before my new wife. I took a step back from Grace. I could tell she was about to cry. But really? You don’t tell someone that you love them the day of their wedding. Not after the ceremony, anyway. I was at a loss for what to do, but Grace took her cue from the ending song. She disappeared into the throng of guests and left me puzzled on the dance floor. My wife came to my rescue, and I gave her a kiss before we started our next dance together.

We left for our honeymoon that night, and I didn’t see Grace again. My wife and I spent two and a half weeks in the Bahamas, and then we came home. On the next lazy Saturday my wife and I began to unpack all of our wedding gifts. I was reading the paper and found the Milestones page. There was our wedding photo in it, with a short blurb about the two of us. On the page opposite the weddings and birthdays were the obituaries. I nearly fell over when I saw it. There was her picture, staring back at me. Grace. I couldn’t believe it at first, or even a second or third time. Why had no one called me? How does Grace die at age 26? I still didn’t really believe it when I dialed her parents’ number.

“Mr. Parker? This is Kevin. I saw the paper.”

“You should come over,” was all he said.

I knocked on the door and it opened immediately. Mr. Parker gave me a hug, and I could tell he had been crying. He tried to explain it to me. That it wasn’t a surprise; it was just a matter of time. That she had made it longer than the doctors expected. I didn’t get it.

“How could she have been sick that long? She was studying abroad for a whole year in Ecuador our sophomore year of college.” That was her excuse for why she couldn’t be with me. She would be gone.

“Oh sweetie.” Mrs. Parker said. “Gracie didn’t spend a year in Ecuador. She went for three weeks because it was her dream, but after that she spent the rest of the year at a specialty hospital in Colorado.”

What?

“I have a letter for you. Gracie wrote it a few weeks ago. Right after you got married, actually. About a week before she died.” Mrs. Parker went to a room and came back with a white envelope. I opened it on the spot.

Dear Kevin,

I love her, too. I love her because you need her. She knows. She always did. You don’t know this, but I found her for you. I told her she needed to love you, because the day would come when I wouldn’t be there to. I know how much you loved me, and if you had known about me, I know what you would have done. But then you would have been all alone now, wouldn’t you? Really, all I wanted is for you to love her more than me, because I love you so much that I never want you to be alone. You have her now, and that’s what I was holding on for.

I loved you yesterday.

I love you today.

She will love you tomorrow.

Peace be with you,

Grace

 It was too much. I started to sob. All those years ago, when Grace would e-mail me “from Ecuador,” she was really sick in a hospital bed. That was about the same time I met my wife. I told Grace how I was going to a church group that met on Tuesday nights, and a few weeks late I met my wife there. Grace was e-mailing me about how much she loved Ecuador, about how great the food was, about how different the culture was, and about how she thought she might move there permanently if she could.

I thanked the Parkers for their time, offered my condolences, and cried some more on my drive home.

My wife was organizing the kitchen when I got there.

“How much did you know?” I asked, waving the letter.

She wrapped her arms around me and said, “Oh Honey…I loved you yesterday. I love you today. I will love you tomorrow.” 

Dear Katie

I hope you are reading this because I don't know where you went! I went to message you and explain how 0.75 of a bathroom means that it has a toilet, sink, and shower (no tub), but you were missing! I hope you didn't get nabbed by the mob or a drunken Californian celebrity.

I'm really good at cracking codes, so if you need help send me a cryptic message.

Your Friend,
Joelle

I Need It Fast

Or, The Cost of Convenience, Part Two
It kills me when I have to spend a dumb amount of money because I need something fast. But it saves me time.

Case in point #1
I need these color copies so that I can make a book for my upcoming GLAD science unit. It's about animals and their habitats. I don't have color ink at home, and our school building does not have a single color copier either. So good luck with that. The GLAD lab (where you can go to make your GLAD units for free) is open four days a week, but in order to use it I have to leave my school early and drive across town to get there before it closes. I don't have that kind of time. So I ordered 21 pages of color copies off of Digital Store Front, which is what teachers use to order all the print they need. It cost me $10.29! That's like 49 cents a copy. Robbery! It costs 3 cents for a black and white copy, BTW. But like I said, I don't have the time to go to the GLAD lab before I need the print.

In case you are not a teacher and are wondering what GLAD is, it is not a happy way to teach science. It stands for Guided Language Acquisition Design, and it is primarily aimed at children whose native language is not English, AKA 65% of my class.

Case in point #2
I try to save money on paying bills by doing it online. Unfortunately, the old-school-ness of two of my utility suppliers do not have online bill paying functions. Thus, I have to mail them a check. One of the aforementioned supplier living in the stone age is located only eight minutes from my house, but it is inconvenient for me to stop there to drop off the payment. Thus, I have to spend 44 cents in stampage. Grrr.

For an even worse waste of money, read The Cost of Convenience.

Let's Party!

Oh my gosh I have discovered party blogs and I love them. These people have all these lovely photos of themed parties, and it makes me jealous. I kind of want a kid just so I can throw an awesome children's birthday party. Is that sick?

Here are my favorites.

This one is for birthdays www.birthdaygirlblog.com  And a sample photo below.

This one is for weddings 100layercake.com/blog/

And the best for last, Amy Atlas, who is a sought after party planner in New York. She does stuff for Martha Stewart, for goodness sake. Check out the "eye candy" photo gallery on her page.

Amy Atlas Events  I was so excited when she showed a photo of a baby naming party, whereupon the glorious name of Joelle was printed everywhere. We are underrepresented.

After looking at all these photos I totally want to throw a beautiful party. Anybody need a planner?

Currently Reading

Al Capone Does My Shirts by Gennifer Choldenko. It came out in 2004, so I guess I'm a bit slow jumping on the bandwagon, but whatever. It's a young adults book (like ages 12-15ish), but it's good. Super good. It's one part historical (set in 1935), one part fiction, three parts witty, one part serious, one part baseball. I mean, thus far. I'm only on chapter 12.

Here's the opening line. "Today I moved to a twelve-acre rock covered with cement, topped with bird turd and surrounded by water."

One of my favorite similes  is "I want to be here like I want poison oak on my private parts."

I don't know what I can say to convince you to read this book. It's a Newberry Honor book. It is fantastic. Five star rating.

Also, if you are in to TV, LOST is on tonight. As in, hot doctor Jack Shepherd, Dharma initiative crap, Sawyer if you like that kind of thing, smoke monsters, numbers, and time travel.

Sappy love and kisses

In honor of the month of February--which we all know is filled with pink hearts, polka dots, and chocolate--I'm thinking about doing a fictional series with the theme of love. Or heartache. Whichever you prefer. I have one story so far, something that's been pushed to the back of the dusty e-files of my computer.

So you know, check back sometime this week to see if I actually do what I say I will. I think I may have some time tomorrow.

On Pretending

Maybe I'm just in a pensive and nostalgic mood because I finished reading J.M. Barrie's original and unabridged Peter Pan. Or maybe it's because I'm a teacher. Either way, I get the tragic sense that children are losing their ability to pretend.

Kids these days have cell phones at 10, they have video games and Wiis, and not many of them have a lovely forest at the back of their house to play in. It's crushing their imagination.

I think sometimes that I have forgotten how to pretend (the good way). There is the way that children pretend, and there is the way that adults pretend. Children make up games and believe that their stuffed animals come to life. They believe in Santa and can make cookies out of mud. The way that they can pretend takes a lot of work, but if you do it right, it is effortless. Real Pretending comes naturally; you don't have to think about it. Everything links together and makes sense.

Adults pretend another way. They pretend they are not married. They pretend their relationship will work. They pretend they have more money in the bank than they actually do. They pretend they are not addicted. They pretend that the harsh realities of this world have nothing to do with them.

I'm afraid kids today aren't getting enough good pretending in before they grow up. I ask my students to make up a story for writing, and it seems so impossible to them. They try to pass off some TV show they've seen as their original idea. I tell them to pretend, to make something up in their mind and just write it down. It's not the writing that is difficult. It's the thinking. They don't know how.

I know I am supposed to be teaching them academic things, but I think I need to start teaching some lessons on how to pretend.

If you are a parent, do your kids a favor. Give them toys that don't do much of anything. Like, I'm talking a cardboard box, some markers, and a pair of scissors. I'm talking you send them out into the woods. I'm talking about making up games with no props.

Some of the games children make up today are quite inventive, yet scary. Like, for  a while at recess, a group of children really liked to get together and play CSI. They decided upon the relationships, like, who's whose mother, who are the kids, etc. And then somebody would die or get injured. You'd know this because you'd see a kid laying out in the grass field, and then the kids playing the investigators would come and drag off the body. The injured child would recuperate, and then the whole slew of them would chase each other around some more. Once the teachers finally figured out what they were doing, they told them to stop. At my first observation, I was fascinated. I made sure not to prod. I'd ask a kid "what are you playing?" And then the next day I'd ask a third-grader "so how do you play?"

Pretending. It's almost a lost art.

Microwave Maven

My junior year of high school I practically used the teacher's lounge at lunch time. Well, sort of. I always brought a cold sack lunch because I refused to be inflated anymore than I already was due to the consumption of school cafeteria food.

I have a sad and embarrassing confession. I am human, and I will share my sad story with you now. I was the fattest I ever have been junior year of high school. My freshman year alone I gained 14 pounds. Ahhh! I blame it on all the chocolate milk I was drinking. I ate cafeteria food every day my ninth grade year. After that I started packing the brown bag. The most bloated point was junior year. Anyway, so point is, I brought my lunch.

I didn't think it was very fair that I couldn't bring something cold and then warm it up at school. Why couldn't they provide microwaves in the cafeteria? Really? Were they afraid sophomores were going to put tin foil or cats in it or something? (side note: some sophomores totally did something with a dead formaldehyde reeking cat from advanced biology. They put it in the grill of Bryan Roessler's car. So gross.) I was completely in rage over the unfairness of it all.

At my high school, the office was on the second floor and the teacher's lounge was on the first floor. I noticed that there was this tiny room off of the office that had: a coffee pot, a microwave, and the teacher's mailboxes. One day I decided to sweet talk the office ladies. I was a good kid, so they knew me and liked me (except for Mrs. Kacalek, who seemed to hate everybody). I asked the registrar if I could please microwave my burrito in the microwave? She said yes. The warmed burrito was glorious. It was like biting into a cheese and salsa filled broken rule. I skipped a day and then asked again, could I please use the microwave? She said sure, any time, no big deal. So after that I never asked again.

I would walk straight in with my lunch, zap it for 60 seconds, and then leave. I think I only saw teachers in the same room like twice. It wasn't even that awkward. I'd be cooking my rice, and Mr. Henderson would be filling his coffee pot. "Oh hey," I would say. And they'd say "nice to see you." All my friends wondered how I managed to have warm home-made lasagna. I let them in on my secret, and even offered to take their food in for them to heat it up.

Being the good kid paid off in one respect.

Teacher Tips

Here are some little things that I do this year that I think are benefiting my students. Wish I would have thought of it last year. FYI I teach fourth grade.

1) I play instrumental music every morning when my kids arrive. If you are one of the first kids, you listen to it for a good 20 minutes before school officially starts. I play Bach, Mozart, Strauss, Chopin--all those guys. But I also play these CDs I got at the Dollar Tree. Magical Panpipes is my favorite, but I am also partial to Ocean Beaches. The music is soothing and it sets the mood for the classroom. One of my favorite comments from a parent was "Tyler said that the classroom doesn't have any windows, but that's okay because the teacher plays nice music in the morning." Yeah, it's true, no windows for us (am still trying to track down idiotic architect).

2) I make my kids work the moment they step in the door. Last year I attempted this with morning work, but found that some kids finished quite early and then raised hell until 9. So the expectation this year is that they start working when they come in, and they keep working until I tell them to stop.

This is our morning procedure
        1) check-in
        2) move breakfast card
        3) fill water bottle
        4) do word study job
        5) read

I have different word study jobs posted each day, and the expectation is that you quickly do your job and then start reading. At nine I set the timer for ten minutes, and students know they need to have their job done and a book out by the time it goes off. If they make it and are reading a book, then they earn points for their team. I really like that we do word study in the morning, because we used to do it in the afternoon and it took a half an hour. Now that I make kids do it as soon as they get to school, it only takes 15 minutes of actual school time.

3) My kids have toothbrushes in their desks and we have a tube of toothpaste by the sink. After we did our week long dental hygiene unit, one girl felt so strongly about it that she convinced her mother to buy enough toothbrushes for our class (thanks Dollar Tree). Students are encouraged to brush their teeth after lunch and/or during clean-up time at the end of the day. Did you know that plaque and acid does the most damage the first twenty minutes after eating? I feel good knowing my kids are brushing their teeth somewhere, if not at home.

         On the left is the timer that I use. I love it because it visually shows kids how much time is left (right now you have 25 minutes). The colored pockets is our job chart, the pink cup holds the toothpaste, and in the right corner is the CD player. We also listen to an audio book every day at lunch. The mustard counter top is complimentary of 1972.

On Miracles

I had an ah-ha! realization on Wednesday. See, I had been praying for a miracle. It's a miracle I've been praying for for a long time, yet it never seems to happen. I said "God, let me see a miracle today. Today is the day. Make it happen today." Then I thought about it and added "or at least some hope. Because I don't have much left. If I can't have a miracle, at least show me some hope."

I went through my normal day and saw no miracle. I went to bed that night pretty disappointed. I was laying in bed, covers over my head, thinking. And then I realized. Maybe today, January 13th 2010, the miracle I had been praying for had started. It could just be beginning somewhere else, someplace where I can't see it. Maybe a chain reaction of events have started, and I will see my miracle sometime, but not yet. But maybe it has started. Somewhere close by, or some place far away, it could have started. I just can't see it because I'm not there.

I felt better and went to sleep.

Come back later

I would write something worth your time, except that I am too busy thinking about things. When I think everything through, I'll let you know. Check back some other time. And in the mean time don't watch The Bachelor because it sucks your soul.