Joy the Baker

So….. what do you do when you forget to call your grandmother on her 80th birthday?  

Well… obviously you yell at your little sister who remembered to call your grandmother on her 80th birthday, and didn’t remind you to call your grandmother on her 80th birthday.  Some nerve.

See… forgetting to call your grandmother on her 80th birthday is just about as bad as kicking your dear and darling 80 year old grandmother in the shin.  It’s not cool.  There’s no going back.  You’re a real jerk if you don’t call your grandmother on her 80th birthday.  

Ok.  Here’s the deal universe.  I hope I live to be 80.  Please.  That would be great.  I think…. I hope. 

On May 25, 2061 Universe, I want you to break my phone.  See to it that no one calls to wish me a happy birthday.  I’ll remember why.  I’ll remember that I deserve it.  For real.  Yeeesh!

Also… biscotti.  I made some delicious biscotti.  This is me, sharing.  

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Dear Future Husband and Future Children,

While it’s clear that the universe hasn’t yet pressed us together into a family mold, I think it prudent to get a few things about our life out in the open.  You know, for the sake of transparency.

Future Husband!  In all likelihood, I think you’re the coolest guy around.  You’re awesome.  While I’m certain there are things you do that drive me a little mad, the fact that you help me with the dishes and make me tea in the morning just makes me swoon.  I’m a little quirky.  You’re probably a little nutty too.  That’s only  fair.  You should know that I sometimes show my love in… pancakes, piles and piles of warm pancakes.  Pancakes for breakfast.  Pancakes for a snack.  Pancakes for dinner.  Pancakes.  It’s important that you like, no, loooove pancakes and understand that when I make giant plates of them for breakfast, I’m just trying to show you how much I love you.  Deal?

Future Children!  You’re super cute.  You must be just adorable.  You should know that I want to squeeze you constantly.  When I mix up your names, you should know that it’s not that I don’t know your names… it’s just that things get a little complicated when I’m trying to wrangle all y’all.  Eat your broccoli.  It will make you beautiful, or at least that’s what my Mom used to tell me.  When you feel mortified by my very presence in your teenage years, just realize that that’s all part of the game.  I’m actually not that uncool and you’ll realize that at some point.

Also, like I told your father, I’m going to make you piles and piles of pancakes some mornings.  Eat them, because I love you and you love me, and we love pancakes.

Thanks Future Husband.  Thanks Future Children.  I love you like crazy.  K.  Thanks.  Bye.

Future Wife/Future Mother,

Joy

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I woke up this morning ready to celebrate Friday.  This, despite the fact that I’m convinced that I’m due at least fourteen hours more sleep, and moving past the idea that I deserve a sleep re-do for having fallen asleep with all the light on, teeth unbrushed and (gasp!) bra still on.  I don’t get a do-over, or more sleep… but I do get a Friday, and that’s a little bit of all right with me.

This week, I overheard someone say “Whatever… you know that Thursday is the new Friday.”  Hm… I don’t know where they work, or how they pull that off, but to me “Friday is the same, old Friday”… and sometimes “Saturday is the new Friday” making “Sunday the new weekend”.

Wanting to celebrate Friday as the same, old Friday got me thinking about all the great little moments I had during the week.  You know… the little things- getting a card in the mail from Mom, or finding a crumpled ten dollar bill in your back pocket.

What are the three best things that happened to you this week?   Think on it.  Here’s what I’m workin’ with.

1. I dropped a cake I had just baked on the floor.  We can talk more about that later,  but thought to myself:  ok, well that shouldn’t happen again for another few months.  I’m glad that’s out of the way.  Then I wanted to yell and swear, but there was no one around to hear it, so I didn’t bother.  This restraint for lack of an audience later made me laugh at myself.

2.  I’m sitting here, in this very moment, enjoying a cup of hot tea and a few of my dad’s buttermilk biscuits.  It’s quiet and sunny and just warm enough to not regret my warm covers in the other room.  Quiet simplicity is a week highlight for sure.

3.  I’m going up to Oakland this weekend.  I’m going to wear a dress.  Don’t try to stop me.  Both things are going to happen.

In the meantime, I think you should take these Cinnamon Raisin Pull-Apart Muffins for a spin.

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I don’t do dishes in the morning.  Dishes are no way to start the day.

While I am all about a big, fat, kitchen wrecking breakfast- morning clean up is absolutely nowhere in my early day itinerary.

The reality is, I may not get to have that perfect, sunny morning weekend wake up experience everday.  I am convinced, however, that there’s a way to put a smile on my face every morning… even if you have to force it on with a wrench.

When I’m in no mood to get out of bed and start my day I give myself this little speech in my head:  Joy,  stop being such a crabby pants.  Get out of bed, go put on that big robe that feels like a combination of cloud and kitten and make yourself breakfast without setting those robe sleeves on fire.  While you’re treating yourself to a fine morning… go ahead and take a break from those breakfast dishes.  You’ve done enough work just getting out of bed… The dishes can wait.

And just like that, the ugly Monday morning isn’t as nasty a beast as I thought.

Make Monday morning Vanilla Brown Sugar Breakfast Polenta, and let the dirty pan soak in the sink until you get home from work.  Live a little… don’t do the dishes.

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