Joy the Baker

Let’s just close out eyes and pretend we’re sitting under an orange tree. An orange tree heavy with fruit… but with the occasional late blooming blossom. There are honey bees too. Just a few. The friendly kind. The kind of honeybees that remind you that life is full of creatures big and small… and we all have tasks to do.

Let’s just hang out under our orange tree for a while. Right here in the shade, greeted by little spots of sun as the wind spreads the leaves.

It’s nice here.

Sweet. Thanks. I’m glad you’re here.

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Allow me this space to keep it real.

Part of growing up (and oh how I want to wrestle that concept) is figuring out how to comfort myself.  Man alive… that’s a hard one.

We all have our shaky moments, when life flips itself upside down and reminds you that you’re not exactly the boss of everything around you.  In those moments, believe me when I say, I just want to hurl myself on the floor and throw a bona fide tantrum.  The only problem with tantrums, is that people don’t really cares much as they did when I was three,  and it just ruins my mascara.

Then there’s french fries.  French fries are far better than tantrums.

Even better than french fries I’ve found, is a good, loud sing.  When I needed comfort yesterday, when I was feeling a little shaky, I literally stood in my living room and sang whatever songs came to mind.  Loud.  With my eyes closed.  Like I really meant it.  From the inside.  It felt so so good.

And then there’s cake.

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