Ummmm...ew. And You're Fired.

At the Bakery we do not do full wedding cakes, but we do get to do fun wedding cupcakes, like the picture above. Part of my job, besides icing the top cake, is to go to some of the receptions to set up the cupecakes and the cupcake trees.

We have been to some really nice reception places in the city, like The Boathouse for example. This past Saturday, we went to the Most Gorgeous Venue ever: The Cipriani Ballroom down on Wall Street. You know you are going to a fancy-pants reception when you see Rolls Royces parked outside. The inside did not disappoint with its marble columns and domed ceiling. After gazing around with our jaws on the floor, we mentioned that we wished that a) we were dressed better, b) that we earned enough money to afford a reception there and c) that we had brought a camera. Sorry.

We immediately got to work setting up the cupcakes. Halfway through our work a girl cme over, admired all the cupcakes, and then stuck her finger in the frosting of one of the cupcakes to taste the frosting. My coworkers and I stared at her with horrified looks on our faces. (This is a complete health code violation.) She simply shrugged her shoulders and explained, "It's okay, I'm the planner." Oh, really. Well if the bride saw her, she would be FIRED. No way would I hire someone who would do that. What was worse: we didn't have a cupcake to replace the one that she stuck her grubby finger in! So I replied to her, "Well, that is your cupcake, then." OK, that doesn't sound like a snappy comeback now, but at the moment all I could think was "There are no words to describe how horrifed I am and how stupid you are." I guess I should have just said that.

All I know is that I will not hire her, and I will probably ban her from coming into the Bakery and touching all the food.

In NYC, When We Go Out to Pizza, We Go to Connecticut
In returning to my tradition of writing past due posts, it is now time to show a few pictures of my Labor Day activities. Already knowing that I would have that Monday off (per usual), I wanted to do something but I was most likely going to just pretend to clean my room. That is, until our friend decided that we needed to get out of the city and take a little road trip up the coast of Connecticut. The planted seed immediately sprouted and the roommates and I went online to rent a car and look up maps to travel to Mystic, CT. Monday morning arrived and we were rearing to go...except for our friend who suggested the trip. He stayed home. No one complained about that. It's hard to play girlie games like MASH and Soul Mate when a boy is present.

The trip started off on the subway, next a bus, and after that a rental car at LaGuardia Airport. Like so many other road trips this summer, I was the designated driver.

FYI, when you live in NYC and want to rent a car Leave the Island! Rental cars are $100 cheaper in the buroughs. Boroughs. Whatevs.

Growing up in the West Coast...aka the Land of Really Big States, it is really curious that one can drive through three, count 'em, three states in a matter of a few hours. We left our house around eight and arrived in Mystic for lunch. And we took the slow road on Route 1 to see the old, pretty Connecticut homes. (How I miss a well-manicured yard!) We ended the day with a jaunt to Rhode Island for dinner.

Mystic, CT is a historic town, even though many of you may only know about the town thanks to Julia Robert's breakthough film Mystic Pizza. There really is a pizza place called Mystic Pizza, and of course that is where we went to eat lunch.

There was a lengthy discussion about whic pizza toppings to consume because we have a vegetarian (me) and a picky eater to consider. I am not sure why the discussion took so long as the results were pretty clear: plain cheese for the dietary challenged, and mushroom/pepperoni for the others.

This roomy took the most, and best pictures.

After our hearty meal, we checked out the town. It had all the touristy knick-knack shops one could expect for the small sea-sidey town. My favorite store was the one with the shoplady who let me try on the vintage rings. (A tip to future suitors: a vintage ring beats a Tiffany's any day.)

What charming Connecticut town doesn't have a little white church building?

The drawbridge. I don't have much more to say about it...but it did remind me a little of the drawbridge in the U district of Seattle. And the one in the Fremont area.

After Mystic, we hit the road to Old Stonington to play on the beach.

And look for Hermit Crabs.

This beach kicks the beaches in Long Island's trash. Did that make any sense?

The reason we went to Old Stonington was to see the lighthouse.

That is now a museum.

We just had enough time to head to Rhode Island for dinner. We wanted to go to the campus of Brown University, but we spent most of our day in Mystic. After a filling dinner in a 50's themed diner, we hit the road for the four hour trip back to the city. To pass the time, we played those girlies games. I would tell you who I married in MASH...but I just can't remember...

More Than a Hair Toss

I have a magic skirt, but I just realized this power yesterday, and I have had the skirt for a couple of years. Since I am not going to post a picture of the skirt (I don't want envious parties to track it down and steal it), I will just give you a little background on this marvelous piece of fashion...and then I will tell you about its magical properties.

A few years ago I saw a picture of a red toile Anthropologie skirt in an issue of Lucky Magazine. The stores in the Seattle area were sold out, and the nationwide search (literally, the shopgirls searched everywhere for me) proved fruitless so I turned to my mom to help me out. I described the garment, and she produced a worthy replacement. I loved it, even though at the time it's best features lied dormant...until yesterday. (Amazing isn't it...I am writing about something that happened yesterday and not two weeks ago.)

Yesterday my roommate and I ventured down to Union Square for a little bit of girl time and retail therapy with her friend (and wife of the playwrite in July's trip to Massachussets). To get to Union Square we have to take two trains: the 1 and the NRQorW. The trip can take up to 40-45 minutes, so it is key to find a place to sit down. We were successful on the 1, but after waiting a really long time for connection the roomie and I walked into an apparently full train. I really didn't want to stand. Fortunately Roomie spied two seats about ten feet away.

As we skipped to the seats I caught the eye of a tall, dark and dashing gentleman sitting in the seats next to the ones Roomie found. He was wearing sunglasses, but I know he was looking at me because he smiled at me, and watched us sit down. I knew right away that he was foreign. he looked foreign, and he and his friend we were not speaking English. I turned my head to pick out the language and look at the language in the newspaper his friend was holding. I assume it was Italian. The newspaper had recognizable characters and well, there are just a lot of Italians in this city. Because I was spying, not-so-secretively I might add, we exchanged a few coy smiles.

All to. soon his stop came. His friend got up, and hoped hoped hoped that the "Italian" was going to stay on. He moved to get up, leaned over and said, "I like your skirt. It is very beautiful." I thanked him while smiling mildly flirtatiously...and watched him leave the train. Immediately Roomie and I started giggling. We kept our eyes on the still-open door and we saw the "Italians" pass by the door one more time (after obviously having gone the wrong direction off the train). And when they passed, the "Italian" looked over his shoulder and smiled at me one more time.

If I haven't said it before, Mom, thanks for the skirt.

Did I Ever Tell You About My Gambian Family?
At the Bakery I have a friend from Gambia that I like to joke around with at times. He has been an employee at the Bakery for some time, but he pretends that he has never been to the original location on Bleecker Street. When I give him a large baking to-do list, he complains that I am mean to immigrants. (That is probably our biggest running joke. Yes, it is a joke. I am not mean to immigrants.) Before I left for my Seattle vacation to attend a wedding, he told me he was getting married. Since I had never before heard him mention a girlfriend, I didn't believe him. No one else he told believed him either. When I returned from my vacation, he was on hisvacation because he had indeed gotten married. To prove it, he invited me to his wedding party in the Bronx. Yes, the Bronx. I asked him if it was all right for a white girl to go to the Bronx, he reassured me by saying that Italians lived in his building. I was only mildly relieved.
My next question about his party was what he wanted for a wedding gift. The term "registry" was mildly foreign. He used a registry to find a gift for our boss when she got married, but I don't believe he thought that type of technology applied to him. My coworkers and I asked what he wanted, and this is the list he came up with: a new hat, a watch, and light bulbs. I bought him some nice energy saving lightbulbs, but managed to break them.
I wasn't sure what to expect at the party. My friend said that there would be food and music...and that is all the info I got. It wasn't enough, really, as this party was very traditional and totally interesting. When I safely arrived at his apartment (in a neighborhood that was much cleaner than my own), there was only a handful of people: my friend, his friends, our boss and her husband (the only other white person besides myself). Loud African music was playing in the background, and BBC news was on the television. I am not sure why the television was on, I only imagine that they kept it on so that they could find out if Ramadan was going to officially start the next day. After about twenty minutes my boss, her spouse, myself, and a couple of other people were handed plates of food: chicken and spicy rice. The wierd thing about being served the meal: the party hadn't officially begun. Sure, we were told that the festivities commenced at 6:00, but apparently no one was going to show up until 8:30 or 9:00. So we all kind of stared at each other for a while. My boss had to leave around 8:00, and with her she took her spouse, leaving me as the sole white person/native English-speaker/non-Muslim. But that was fine with me.
During my French studies, I took a class in African Literature, and along with reading novels written by leading Senagalese authors we also learned a lot about African culture. Certainly some cultural aspects vary between tribes, but some of the customs are found in many tribes/countries. Thanks to that class, I wasn't totally clueless about the evenings events.

Around 9:00, all the women showed up wearing their traditional colorful dresses and ornate jewelry. I felt completely underdressed. The women had an important role at the party. Traditionally when the bride comes to her grooms house with the griots (tribal elders/poets), his friend's wives barricade the passage demanding money from her before she can pass. This process is very loud as the women demand more money and the griots sing about the goings on.

Here are the backs of the women blocking the way. They were also blocking my vision a little.

Finally she and her family makes it through. For some reason that I couldn't totally figure out money changed hands rather frequently. First the bride gave money, then it looked like people were giving it back to her. (I was concerned that I should have brought some money. I had money, but I was going to use it as emergency taxi money in case the Bronx got dangerous.) here the bride's mother is giving her money. More dowery?

The griots took turns singing; it was incredibly cool even though I had no clue what they were saying. After singing, the griots talked about the gifts, and then I think they asked for money because more women took money out of their handbags. The gifts were more traditional than the ones that my friend asked for. People brought several comforters, dish sets, cannisters--and multiples of each item. (Something they could have avoided if only they registered.)

Here I am with the bride and groom. I think I am the only one aware that a picture was being taken. Boy am I white.

I got to hold a cute little baby that night. She was a sweetheart.

As I left my friend showed his gratitude for my presence at his party, by saying that we are now family. Don't we bear a strong resemblance? If it works, I have attached two videos so you can get a glimpse of what I experienced that night. Enjoy!

As I mentioned, like, a month ago, I was able to go to Seattle for a family wedding. I must say that I have been completely blessed to have grown up with my cousins. So it was a HUGE treat to be there for my cousin's nuptials. She looked beautiful (as usual) and the groom, whom I met during the trip, seems like a stellar fellow. He knows some of my NYC acquaintaqnces so that boosts his coolness quota.
On to the pictures! The above photo is of the happy couple as they exited the Seattle Temple. I must say that the bride chose her gown perfectly. I am a huge fan of the tea-length dress (I aspire to have my own tea-length wedding dress one o' these days), but since the Seattle weather was abnormally scorching, she chose the breeziest option. Plus she looks fabulous. The groom looks quite dapper as well.

This little cutie belongs to another cousin of mine. At two years old, this solid angel is the life of the party. She was born after I moved to NYC, and I was very sad to miss it, and a little sad that she doesn't really know me, but she did warm up to me a little by the end of my visit.

The mother of the cute little tyke above is a fantastically creative person, (well, all my cousins are and I am sometimes envious of their abilities) and she is responsible for the gorgeous design for the reception. While looking at the forthcoming photos you must remember that the event took place at a church.

The reception was held at the first LDS church builidng in Seattle--which fortunately has a lovely courtyard--perfect for mingling.

My friend at the blog "Where Flowers Bloom" (totally tried to add a link, but failed) flew in from SLC to help out with the bouquet and flowers. I loved the combo of the orange and green flowers. It was bold and unexpected.

My talented mom was in charge of the food. She needed a cute apron, and I found this one at Anthropologie. I love that store. The menu included chicken salad on cream puffs, pulled pork sliders on homemade buns, a couscous salad, and a spinach salad. The popular beverage table was filled with fun bottled drinks: key lime soda, root beer, and Mexican Coke (for the cane sugar).

More pictures of flowers. (I could have arranged the pictures a little better, but I hadn't come up with the story flow when I downloaded the images.) Anywhoo. The bouquet. The bride actually had two, one to hold and one to throw. The one she tossed was actually a bundle of smaller bouquets (providing marital luck to several ladies). I even caught one. Stay tuned for news of my wedding! Or perhaps when I go out on a date...

I even loved the boutonierres. I am not sure if I spelled that right. (A B.A. in French, and what good is it?)

The candy bar. I made a few trips to this place. I had forgotten how good malt balls were.

Instead of a traditional white, towering cake, the happy couple chose a few of their favorite cakes to eat: pink champaigne cake, pistachio cake, carrot cake, Australian Lambingtons, and Jacob's Chocolate Cherry Cake. The Lambingtons were my favorite. They are the little square cakes that mildly reminded me of Hostess Snowballs, but a trillion times better. I love snowballs, so you can imagine how much I loved those little guys. The Lambingtons didn't have marshmallow or a creamy center; they were simply a cube of vanilla cake surrounded in chocolate and coated with coconut. So good.

I was actually responsible for making the Chocolate Cherry Cake. I was glad to put some of my skills to work at the celebration.

The last picture I have for you is a close up of the great little oragami lanterns my cousin made. When the sun went down, these tiny cheery little lights added extra ambiance to the already fabulous reception. Good job family! And another Congrats to the Bride and Groom. I swear, your gift will be in the mail soon.