There you have it. I think most people would add this to their “cute facts about me” list, but not me. I’m too much of a badass. I was the bad cop with my kids and barely flinched. I broke a leg and walked on it for nine days before I thought I should go see a doctor. I come from a long line of awesome Irish women. Needless to say I don’t cry at movies.
Old Yeller– dog was put out of his misery.
Marley and Me– that dog was a handful.
It’s a Wonderful Life– Ya, it is.
Steel Magnolias– Disease happens.
Toy Story– Um…they aren’t real people; they’re toys.
But sports movies? Yes, this girl cries. Sometimes she ugly cries. It could be We Are Marshal and I cry because the team dies in a plane crash, and the new team overcomes everything and I cry again. It could also be Miracle where I cry because of the fabulous win at the Olympics. And don’t even get me started on Rudy. (Remembering major scenes and biting my knuckle now.)
Worse is no one my family is the same. They cry at those other movies I mentioned and make me feel bad about not crying. Then when I cry, they stare at me as though I have the strangest soul on Earth.
I think it’s cool to appreciate a beautiful workout montage or painful team building scenarios including burpees. Don’t you?
I share this information sparingly, until now, to insure my “street cred”. I had to share it now because I love a challenge… no correlation to sport movie worship, I’m sure.
Hello dear readers. This is an easy one. “The Sunken Cake” stems from my ability to do most things incorrectly and with lots of laughter. I’m super awkward and lack basic coordination so even if I’ve successfully done something before, that doesn’t mean I’ll do it right again…ever. There’s no telling with me.
So…I bake fairly well. I also get a sunken cake every now and again that needs a little extra icing to be presentable. But then, don’t we all need a little extra icing sometimes?
Day two is here and so am I. I’m a blogging success already! I will proceed with the 20 facts shortly, but first a home-building rant.
Everyone is smarter than me but somehow dumber than each other. Our general contractor, who has a tendency to “require” fancy finishes, says we need XYZ to pass inspection. Our sub-contractor says we only need ABC to pass. I’m going to have to call the municipality, and my gut says they’ll want XAYC. This project has really stressed my firm “work humbly with smart people” rule.
Thanks dear readers. I needed to get that out. Now for the facts you came for:
So why am I introducing myself when I have a perfectly good “About Me” page AND my blog isn’t new? I fell off the blog wagon and it sucked because writing and sharing adventures make me pretty damned happy.
The solution? A 31-day blog challenge! (Shout out to Baby J & Little A.) That’s right, I’m going to go from slow, inconsistent posts to every single day posts. I’m sure there’s a successful blogger somewhere who just got goosebumps and a sense of something very very ominous.
I always wanted to be somebody, but now I realize I should have been more specific.
Oh well. This girl’s gotta do something. To make things even better, I’m building a house and preparing to move. Stress and boxed up blogging tools are helpful. (Say it like a mantra.)
I can’t promise great content, but I can promise this Stella is working on getting her groove back.
I love to bake. I started out liking to bake, but once I found myself crazy busy trying to work full-time, raise a tween, and finish my Master’s degree I stumbled into loving the practice of heating various combinations of flour, sugar, and butter into deliciousness. Baking was something I could do that placed the constant buzzing in my head on pause. All that I had to concentrate on was following directions and adding a bit of flare. (Following directions precisely isn’t really “me”.)
Those who know me are sometimes confused by my affection for baking. The act is extremely measured- almost mathematical. I gravitate toward more fluid things such as making up stories, going on walks, and being entirely too easily entertained. While the measured part of baking is sometimes a challenge (I am occasionally guilty of not pressing the brown sugar enough, or adding cinnamon when it hasn’t been called for…flare, remember?) I think my general amiability helps me deal with baking’s darker, less talked about side: the botched bake.
I have discovered two primary ways that a botched bake occurs:
1. The baker follows the directions to a T as it is the first time the recipe has been attempted, and through mystical oven, stove, or mixer happenings it just doesn’t come out right. (Ok, to be truthful cinnamon or nutmeg is usually added, but that would be the only meddling. I swear.)
2. The baker does what they have done a billion trillion times before with the same damn recipe they’ve always used and it just doesn’t come out right.
Generally speaking, I deal with the first type without incident. I may utter an “oh poop”, but no fits are thrown. The second type is a bit more frustrating. Please see exhibit A.
What you see here is a simple yellow cake. What you also see is a stunningly well-presented sink hole in the middle. I have made this elementary yellow cake for years. It’s a “go-to” that I find familiar and comforting. Yet with my all of my yellow cake expertise, “YC genius” if you will, I still ended up with a gasp producing eyesore.
This is where it’s all about attitude.
After a quick recovery, I did what I usually do in these situations- admit math isn’t perfect (the problem clearly doesn’t lie in my execution), and make it work. In this case, after filling the hole with a bit more frosting to level everything out, voila, a beautiful cake is visible. As for the frosting, who wouldn’t like an extra dose of sweetness? That middle piece person is going to be one lucky poochie.
My mission, or middle-of-the-new-year resolution, is to apply this same attitude to my life in general. I need to get the fun back and truly enjoy the changes that are coming. I need to take risks that aren’t life threatening. I intend to try new things, add flare, and succeed or fail. I’m going to try old things and roll with them when they are utterly and completely botched through no fault of my own (as previously established). My mission is to enjoy the adventure and develop the cutest laugh lines my fiancé has ever seen.