The vandal is gone. The vandal is gone. The vandal is gone.
I think it’s one of my mom’s favorite stories. It involves me, a cookie and coffee – three things that I’m sure you’d never put together.You can laugh now.
April is lucky I love her. Really lucky.This morning, I come in the bakery tired and frustrated and she had the nerve – the NERVE – to not only poke fun at me but to do it with her own cupcake creation.
I am a baker.I am not a fashionista. I am not a police officer. And by no means am I a ninja. I can bake cookies, cupcakes, pies.
I can’t tell you about all the cupcakes I’ve made. There’s been thousands – tens of thousands, probably – that have come from my heart and hard work. Some of them have been good. Some of them have been bad.
Intoxicating. And, no. No, I’m not talking about J.K. O’Donnell’s and the Guinness I had last night.
People like to ooh and ah over cake balls – they’re so good … and so cute … and oh so versatile.But here’s the thing about cake balls: They are a pain in the you-know-what to make.
Harrison is a good looking guy. He might even be movie star good looking. But as we’ve all learned, looks will only get you so far.Especially with me.I like a guy who is kind. Funny.
Some girls buy a new dress for a date. Others will get new shoes … or a hair cut … or a mani-pedi … or all of the above.However, I’m not one of those girls. Shocking, I know.
Have you ever seen the movie “Waitress”? You know the one – Keri Russell (let’s be honest and just call her Felicity) works in a pie shop and is a pie genius.
I have never lived a day that I didn’t wake up wanting to bake.Until today.Saying that my stomach hurts after my run-in with the skateboarders would be an understatement.
I did something ridiculous. I mean, crazy ridiculous. And we’re not talking about whipping up a batch of savory cupcakes or bacon nougat-filled cookies. Oh, no. Those things have the potential of being ridiculously good.
You ever have one of those days when you wake up at 3 a.m.? I mean, like, wake up with your eyes wide and your engines rarin’ to go. That was me today.
It all started with Scooby Snacks. Our unrelenting love of Scooby Snacks.Every Friday, after school, April and I would go to Munchie’s – when it was actually called Munchie’s – to split some Scooby Snacks and an Unwrap.
I was 5-years-old, standing on a white wooden step stool in my grandma’s kitchen. We were baking cookies – chocolate chip cookies. She creamed the butter and sugar in an old, old stand mixer.
It’s funny how you can spend your entire day baking and come home and bake some more. But that’s what I did last night.
I try really hard not to judge people. If studying in Paris taught me anything, it was that.
Let’s talk about what happened last night. Or what didn’t happen last night.My Cracker Jack Cupcakes turned out fabulous. The cases were stocked. April and I were ready for a busy night to follow a glorious TinCaps win.
I have a secret to tell you. A big one.When it comes to baseball, I’m not the gal who goes for the ice cream cone or the lemon shake-ups. Nope. Not me.Sweet as I may be, when it comes to baseball, I want two things: