Where To Buy A Scale And Other Weekend Lessons
Days 30, 31, & 32 of The 90-Day Do Something Big Project
I tried writing something witty and inspiring and motivating and insightful this morning.
But after wearing out my delete button I decided to hell with it—I’m just going to simply tell you what I did this weekend.
Besides, my website is down right now so who knows when/if you’ll ever read this.
I might even write pretending no one is ever going to read this. Do you bloggers ever do that? Or do you always somewhat censor yourself in order to cater to your readers?
I wonder what your writing would sound like if you assumed no one would ever read it. No one. Ever.
It’s hard to do.
Friday I baked cupcakes for my good friend Jason’s gender reveal party. I only bake cupcakes these days for very very
special occasions. Very special
. The last time I baked cupcakes was for Cass’s daughter’s 5 year-old birthday. See. Very special.
While baking cupcakes on Friday for this very special party I was reminded of a pretty neat talent I have—the talent of refusing to go back to the store when I forget an ingredient that my recipe calls for!
It’s a good thing that I believe in improvisational baking. All that science talk is overrated.
Chocolate cupcakes with pink filling (it’s a girl!) and cream cheese frosting was the flavor chosen by the soon-to-be mother. Good choice, right?
When I learned of her flavor choice on Friday I went to the store to pick up my ingredients.
I’m not sure if there has ever been an occurrence in which I’ve remembered to get all of the ingredients on my list.
Yes, I bring a list.
My memory though…well, something happened to it years ago.
It wasn’t until I got home and started measuring ingredients that I realized I had forgotten to buy applesauce and buttermilk for the chocolate cupcakes.
Yes, they were on the list. I know what you’re thinking.
Luckily I had oil, chocolate almond milk, and distilled white vinegar in the house.
A few easy swaps and my moist chocolate cupcakes popped out of the oven.
Improvisational Baking! One of my highly underrated talents.
Saturday was the party. I truly hate parties. I do. I’m god awful at small talk and even worse at introducing myself.
I look awkward, I feel awkward, and I sound awkward. And inevitably after a few moments of being painfully uncomfortable I will eventually look for a way to make myself useful.
Which was the precise reason for why I snagged the host’s Cannon and offered to be the party photographer.
It worked out great—I felt less pressure to mingle and I was able to capture some awesome moments on film that may have been missed.
Before the party I took Donald to playtime. I’ve taken him almost religiously every Saturday morning because I adore how much he loves playing with the dogs.
However, I’ve been enjoying my time there less and less.
Donald is feisty. He’s playful, fierce, spunky, sassy, scrappy—I’ve heard him called them all. Now maybe I’m projecting onto Donald but I feel as though some of the doggy parents don’t like us.
I think they view him as a troublemaker.
This one lady. Oh, this one lady. I wanted to wallop her so badly on Saturday when she scolded Donald, dragging him away from her “baby”.
This Rottweiler puppy of hers she just babies
to death. Coddling him. Cooing at him—wait, it’s a her I think. Sorry lady.
So I think we’re going to take a hiatus from playtime, which we have to anyways due to my upcoming book signings.
Which, this Saturday at Wegmans
—don’t forget! I want to see your smiling faces. Or frowning faces, whichever. Just show me your faces.
Yesterday, I spent more quality time with my mixer.
The entire morning and a good part of the afternoon I hovered over my kitchenaid and my miniature scale reformulating my Dollop Frosting Line recipes. Because—well, I’m not sure yet why.
But, I believe the recipes are perfect now. Yeah, I said perfect.
The worst part about formulating recipes like this is the precise weighing of ingredients. The measurements have to be completely accurate down to the .01 gram.
I actually had to go to a smoke shop to buy a scale for this.
In case you ever need to buy a scale to measure food in grams—don’t go to a housewares store. Nope. Just hit up your local smoke shop. You’re welcome.
After successfully priming my frosting for its’ upcoming world domination I was feeling hopeful so I swung out to the mall to look for some new jeans.
Have people been shrinking? Every pair I tried on was an inch too short.
As I looked at the girls around me I noticed every girl (seriously, every
girl) was wearing black leggings with knee-high boots.
Did I miss a massive fashion revelation or something?
As tempted as I am to follow suit and don the butt hugging legging outside of the gym, I have never in my life taken to an explosive fashion trend.
There’s something about walking into a restaurant and seeing every woman wearing the same pants as I am that is vastly unappealing to me.
So I’ll just keep searching for long enough jeans.
Now I really need to make a to-do list for today.
I’m not a big list-making person but sometimes a list can anchor you. Tie you down. Focus you. Hold you accountable.
Yep, a list is definitely what I need today.
What’s on your agenda this week? Don’t forget to #dollopBIG
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