Boom! Crash! Blammity!

I remember when you were the new boy at school. All the ladies were excited to see the girl/boy ratio increase to 4:1 and your arrival was the talk of the class. You were quiet that first day, we all thought you were so shy. But you quickly became yourself, and by the end of the week, you were drawing diagrams of your mom's fluffy hair on the white board for all to see.

Shortly thereafter, we actually met your mom. She's awesome. You admitted that your hair and her hair are pretty much the same. So you fluffed your hair and it became very much the same.

Remember when you wrote this? Everyone looked forward to the days for sharing impromptu speeches and creative writing assignments. We couldn't wait to see what you came up with next.

Remember your beloved Skittles chapstick, which you always applied in your signature Grant fashion?

Remember when we were both stuck in the doldrums of Advanced Mathematics during your senior year? I do. It was boring. So instead of doing work, we invented immigration techniques for pigmy Guatemalans. I still have those papers. I don't regret how we spent our time in math class that year -those are some of my fondest memories.

Remember how you could never reach your own shoulders? We never did figure out what was up with that. You always just credited it to having massive biceps. Whatever you say...

Remember how you're everyone's favorite person? I do. After Luke's graduation, you pretty much became the legacy kid of PHA. You were silly and sometimes outrageous, but you were always genuine. People loved you because they gravitated toward your spontaneity and independence, and your goodness.

You should know that you started the Muse revolution at PHA and are probably responsible for converting about 25% of their loyal fan-base. You should also know that my mother is now mildly obsessed (I know, after all those years of disapproval). I thought you'd like that.

Remember being 'Mr. Knightonly' at the dance festival? You decided the ruff wasn't doing you any favors and it was too itchy anyway, so you wadded it up and stuffed it in your pocket. Didn't you forget to put it back on for the performance? That, I can't remember.

I didn't make a cake for you this year. I'm sorry. My pans are packed away and I ran out of time. Did you see the cake from last year? It had a giant fondant 'G' top. We sang for you.

Happy 21, Grantius Maximus. I miss you. You're the Greatest man that ever lived:

Christmas on the Sales Floor and Stress Baking

I often think I'd like to live off of peppermint tea for the rest of my life. Then I remember I'm a baker.

For functional and therapeutic purposes alike, the holidays are a great time to be caught in a fit of marathon stress-baking. So, when I recently found myself in a particularly restless state, out came the stand mixer and measuring cups. Three batches of cookies, two batches of frosting, two dinners, and a loaf of bread later, the fog in my brain had dissipated. (As had all the food. It's nice to live around people who can take entire batches of cookies off your hands) Polish off with a kitchen full of dishes done four times over, and I'm feelin' fancy-free.


This last month, I was blessed in the form of cash and more cash when I was hired back for the holidays at my old job with [ImmerEinundzwanzig] (actual name not used here because I'm done saying it for the day and I think it makes the mouth sound lazy). I've enjoyed refreshing the important life skills useless parlor tricks that can only be developed and perfected by someone who has spent too long working in a clothing store. My repertoire includes being able to handle 150+ hangers at a time (clothing included), speed-folding, and a number of one-handed feats, including buttoning, tying (optional variation: bow-tying), zipping, hanging, and folding. The holiday season is so impossibly busy, my list of things to do turns into a kind of logic puzzle. I'm good at those. So naturally, I'm good at my job. It's a swell feeling.

On the other hand, sometimes people are less-than-civil to their local shopgirl. Some days they spill their sodas on my floor and leave me to tackle the atrocity with nothing more than paper towels and a garbage can. Some days they watch me lovingly fold a large pile of clothing, only to nonchalantly dump it onto the floor as I walk away. Some days they leave diapers in my dressing room.
Diapers.
On one such recent day, I was working in lingerie and doing my darnedest to appease the masses of holiday shoppers. After a brief hiatus from panty-land (one that involved soda and paper towels), I returned to find my section looking like a pink war zone. One look at my once beautifully-arranged table of delicates (now a heaping, tangled mountain of unmentionables) had me wanting to swear and burn all the lace in the world.
Making exasperated eyebrows at customers is discouraged, so my only consolation was the thought that in four hours I would be home with my feet up, teacup in hand.

A particular quote comes to mind (Sam, if I may):
"Chocolate cream pie! You know what I love about cooking? I love that after a day when nothing is sure and when I say nothing, I mean nothing. You can come home and absolutely know that if you add egg yolks to chocolate and sugar and milk, it will get thick. That's such a comfort."
-Julie Powell, Julie & Julia

And that's exactly what I did. Only I added the egg whites too, and made this:

That's right, it's another cake!
Whipped peppermint cream + smooth, velvety ganache = peace, love, and compassion.

Butter and sugar may not be good for the heart, but surely they are good for the soul -especially when shared with a room full of your favorite people. Once again, stress baking has saved the day.

SPORTSMANSHIP

It's always nice when BYU wins, but watching the Ducks lose really sweetens the deal.