Don't Frost Me!

Its been over a month since my trip to Cuba and I'm still not ready to write about it. The stories walk with me still, twisting themselves in shapes that fall apart and leave question marks at the end.

So instead of writing, I've been baking. Yes, me. I know, right? Ever since I gave up diet coke I've become someone else, someone who owns a cupcake tote and can dip strawberries in chocolate without burning herself.

It started with a batch of brownies that looked too plain so I put chocolate chip cookie dough on top of them and viola, "brookies."

Next came strawberry layer cake that looked to plain and pink so I studded it with chocolate chips and strawberry halves.

After that was spice cake with cream cheese icing covered in roasted pecans, followed by cupcakes, potpies and a baked Ziti thing that was too good to be anything but dessert.

I bake in the morning, I bake after school, and last night in particular I baked 8 cakes that are destined to become two large checkerboard cakes while watching Scream Queens and American Horror Story.

I bake so much that my children fear me.

Zack has asked, more than once, if I'm going to fatten him up and eat him like the witch from Hansel and Gretel.  I tell him no, of course no, and anyway the cakes are for veterans anyway so stop looking at them and get back in your cage etc.

I bake so much that I must bake in my children's dreams because this morning while I was gently waking Zoe up at the horrible pre-dawn hour highschoolers must be awoken, she winced at my touch and while still mostly asleep begged "Please don't frost me!"