Week-end wrap-up

It was a busy one. The boys and I went to a beautiful bar mitzvah at an amazing restored temple here in Los Angeles. That's a photo of the ceiling which seemed like a portal to the heavens. I've only been to three bar mitzvahs and am always struck by the gorgeous traditions that the Jewish faith keeps. Maybe it's because they're foreign to me, but when I sit and listen to the ancient language and the sonorous voice of the cantor, I can't help but feel emotional in a way I never do when I attend services in the faith in which I've been brought up. As I scanned the English translations of some of the prayers, I wondered why this is so -- whether the day in and day out of ritual, say, in the Catholic tradition, coupled with the very real horrible things outside of its traditions effectively destroyed that religion for me. I figured that this ambiguity probably exists for some Jews, too, and that their mysterious and rich traditions, steeped in suffering, aren't always mysterious at all. Or maybe not. Maybe I'm just stubborn.

I frosted nearly one hundred cupcakes yesterday. There were chocolate cupcakes with chocolate frosting and some with vanilla. There were vanilla cupcakes with chocolate frosting and some with chocolate. There were chocolate cupcakes with peanut butter frosting and a dab of strawberry jam. What did I miss? Oh, there were coconut cupcakes and a chocolate cake with strawberry buttercream.

I felt almost sick watching nearly five pounds of sugar, two dozen eggs and five pounds of butter disappear. Yikes. I'm not doing much to help efforts in clean living am I?

Padded Walls and Cupcakes

This happened:

Remember the foam that my father bought and intended to use for Sophie's walls last Thanksgiving? Please. Read about it again and then come back.

Well, looky look!

There's beautiful upholstered padding all around the room so Sophie's falls and head bangs will be a thing of the past. (Unless, of course, she goes for that nice thin strip of window frame.) Thanks, Mom and Dad! There's even padding on the sills, and over the next few days I'm going to slowly get rid of all the crap we've been using to shield her from injury.

To tell you the truth, I could use some padded walls.

This is happening right now:

Eight dozen cupcakes and one birthday cake for one of my best friend's sons' bar mitzvah tomorrow. I'll post photos when they're all frosted.

What's happening in your parts? (not pants)***














***One of my readers read that question once as "what's happening in your pants?" and I just love that 'cause, you know, I'm Virgo the Virgin.

More Notes from the 18th and 19th Centuries and Back to Our Normal Programming

I cope by running to the hills with appropriate poetry. Here's some:

The world is too much with us

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers --
Little we see in Nature is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.

William Wordsworth
(1770-1850)

And if you're tired of it all, the whole damn mess, I'll take you back to my regular programming. You can even lick the frosting from the bowl -- or my fingers. Take your pick.

First there was this:

Then there was this:

And then, this:

And after, this:

Oh, and finally this:

If you're an old doddering fool, there's this:

Diastat Days

photo by Jennifer W.

I woke up this morning at just after 4:00 to Sophie howling in her bed, not a croon but a howl, the seizure slicing through her throat, air pressed out. She had two more like that, I dithered about Diastat for the thousandth time should I wait should I do it should I wait no do it no wait just do it. I snapped off the plastic top and tore the foil envelope of lubricant, inserted the tip into foil and then into Sophie. Eventually, her eyes fluttered, her hands, in claws at her ears, relaxed. I lay beside her. There is no one to call, I told Suzy, as I wandered the grocery aisles, picking up flour, sugar, eggs, butter, the bad stuff for the five dozen cupcakes I will make this evening. There's nothing to do, sometimes, but endure, I thought, and pushed the for what away. Later, I leaped off the no white food cliff, smeared Brillat Savarin on a baguette, ate it in my car while Astrud Gilberto sang to me.

Cupcakes on the Beach

Here's a preview!

If you're in the area, come help us celebrate Sophie's 18th birthday!

We're on the beach, straight down past the public bathrooms and to the left of the lifeguard stand.  We'll be there from 4:30 onward! If you can't make it, stay tuned for photos. I'll save you a cupcake.

Culmination Cupcakes, Vile Comments and Pablum

Chocolate and Vanilla Cupcakes with Fondant Checkers

This blog appears to be turning into a superficial baseball and baking fest with a bit of eggsex education thrown in. Where are the grim reports of disability, shitty government and seizures? Where's the poetry? Where's the politics and parenting? Over the last week, I've not only gone to four baseball games, but I've also baked and decorated nearly ten dozen cupcakes and three cakes. I've got four dozen more to go, so anything pithy or angst-driven will have to wait. I'll hope you'll hang around if you're more of the mind for the serious. If you're in to that sort of thing, I was recently baited by a vile commenter who calls himself skunkfeather on a reactionary conservative blog that I visit every week or so to see what the crazies are up to. He uses the word libtard regularly and sort of drives home or confirms my perhaps cynical belief that all the talk of needing more civil discourse and we have more in common as Americans than not is pablum at best and bullshit at worst. I didn't take the bait -- except for here, of course, because I doubt he comes around and seeing my name in his comment made me throw up a little in my mouth (an expression that I usually despise) and want to purge.

OK.

Here's a photo of a cake I made for someone for Father's Day. It's chocolate with dark chocolate ganache filling and white buttercream.

And here's a quote from one of the world's greatest satirists, Jonathan Swift:

It is useless to attempt to reason a man out of a thing he was never reasoned into.

And this:

I never wonder to see men wicked, but I often wonder to see them not ashamed. 

Reader, how was your weekend?

Cupcakes and Cotillion

The annual Mother/Son, Father/Daughter Cotillion made me feel very proud. I could barely walk after the dancing, though!

And the cupcakes? These were red velvet and chocolate, made for my dearest friend Moye's pottery show and sale. See her work and website here.

Carrot Cupcakes with Maple Cream Cheese Frosting

It's 2:00 in the afternoon, Pacific Coast Time, and I've had nothing to say here all day.

Are you relieved?

I woke up this morning, got my boys ready for school and out the door, dealt with Sophie and her 45-minute long cluster of spasms (I swear to God, the girl can seize for literally an hour and then sit right up and get on with her day) during which I alternately prayed, cursed, meditated and sipped coffee. That's how I do it. I then drove The Girl to school and felt enormous relief and a bit of guilt at how enormously relieved I felt that she was gone, out of my hands and into the very capable and far more cheerful ones of Renita, the Saint. When I got back home, I finished the dozens and dozens of cupcakes that I started making yesterday and last night, boxed them up, delivered some to The Husband's Mistress and then drove to Santa Monica to deliver to a client. The client's office was lined with giant posters of all the movies and television shows he had produced and the various Emmys and Golden Globes he had won. It was very impressive and since everyone who worked inside looked to be about sixteen years old, I didn't feel intimidated. After all, I'm a middle-aged baker with a husband who has A Mistress, a daughter who can have epileptic seizures every single day for over sixteen years and two sons who know baseball statistics but can't remember to feed the dog every morning, a dog who I took to the vet and who cost me approximately $349 in meds, shots and examination fees. What's there to be intimidated by?

Still, the sun is shining brightly in Los Angeles and my garden looks fantastic. I'm excited to see that the very last tomatoes look ripe, so as soon as I pick them, I'm ripping out that scraggly, ugly thing and planting Swiss Chard, Spinach and other delectable veggies.

How We Do It - Part II in an ongoing series

I'm a baker, not a candlestick maker. I bake cakes and cupcakes and sell them to people or give them away. I do it for the money and I do it for the pleasure of the sweet -- the feel of the batter, the flow of the icing, the pleasure of the perfect meringue, the gloss of the chocolate, the tender crumb. I have to be able to bake in the midst of it all, though, measure the flour and remember the sugar, count the eggs and remember the baking soda or was it powder? Is that Sophie who just made that bang or was it the boys? I put the tins in the oven and put Sophie's shoes on and while the timer ticks, I take her around the block, tire her out so that she can sit in her wheelchair, gladly, while I mix the frosting and pull the pans out of the oven and leave them there to cool and her to rest.

This is how we do it.

And when Sophie is up and wandering in her room, aimlessly, bumping into the closet door, seeking sensation and flirting with danger, the mixer is on in the kitchen and I feel tense, straining to hear over the whir, I call on the boys, the ever-patient boys, the boys whose lives I try to protect, try to shield, ever balancing the reality of the situation she is disabled and she is your sister and they have their own lives to live and will not be responsible, too responsible, they answer yes, mom and I ask them to watch her, watch her while I put this in the oven, watch her please make sure she doesn't fall off the couch, let her watch you, let her be with you, pay attention to her, please watch her just for a minute, just a sec.


That is how we do it.

Lavender, Vanilla and Coconut Cupcakes
(not pictured - Intense Chocolate Chocolate Chip Cupcakes)

How We Do It - Part I HERE.

Cupcakes and Lemonade Stands

Key Lime Cupcake Batter

Key Lime Cupcakes with Key Lime Cream Cheese Frosting

Vanilla Cupcakes with Lavender Frosting

Chocolate Cupcakes with Chocolate Frosting

Chocolate Cupcakes with White Frosting

Lemon Cupcakes with Lemon Frosting

Red Velvet Cupcakes with Cream Cheese Frosting

Thank you, Kristin!

Oliver is wearing a Wendy's fast food jacket and hat that we found in the house when we moved in. Just so you know...

Total Take: $24.56

Cupcakes

 Vanilla Cupcakes with Dark Chocolate Ganache

Lemon Cupcakes with Lemon Frosting and Candied Lemon Peel

Cupcakes and Sophie

I'm busy baking today -- birthday parties and wedding showers -- grateful for the business and feeling wackadoodle. 

Vanilla Cupcakes with Pale Violet Frosting
Red Velvet Cupcakes with Cream Cheese Frosting

This is one of Sophie's favorite poses -- she's folded herself up like an origami swan since she was a tiny girl. We used to joke that the caption for that pose should be my life is shit and leave me alone. (Even in the early days, a sense of humor prevailed!)