I Don't Mean to Brag...Well, Actually, I Do.

Last year about this time, I was fortunate to have a celebrity sighting practically everywhere I went. For some reason, it is still so exciting to see a famous person--even though we get them at the bakery all the time (Faye Dunaway came in today!!! And I got to talk to her!!!). For the most part I can remain pretty calm and collected...until Alan Alda came in last Saturday. I grew up watching M*A*S*H*, and even though I have seen every episode, I still enjoy the show. In fact, when I returned home from France and had no job I watched about four hours of M*A*S*H* everyday...to the point of having Hawkeye cameos in my dreams. When I recognized Alan Alda in the cupcake line my heart pounded loudly and my jaw hit the floor. It was Alan freakin' Alda!!! I couldn't help myself and I became that giddy fan, gushing about how much I enjoyed the tv show and won't my dad be excited to hear that I met Alan Alda....I was retarded and Mr. Alda was very polite to thank me and shake my hand. Don't worry, I didn't mention that he has showed up in my dreams. I am not that stupid.

I never liked the idea of going right up to a favorite celebrity and start gushing. I've always hoped for something more organic, like reaching for the same bottle of soy milk or sitting next to him/her on the subway. That's what I imagine for an ideal celebrity meeting. So Saturday's experience was a little embarrassing, along with the coolness of it. Fortunately, Sunday's celebrity sighting was so much better than I could ever imagine. Try this situation on for size:

Last Sunday, my roommate S and I took a trip to Williamstown, Massachussets for the Williamstown Theatre Festival. I know I am going to get a few lectures about Sabbath Day observance, so please let me continue by saying that we went to the festival to support a friend. Well, S's friend. My very talented roommate received her Master's degree in Drama Therapy at Kansas State> While there she met a girl named Megan (studying the same thing) who just so happens to be married to an up and coming playwright, Nathan Louis Jackson. (Variety Magazine calls him "one to watch.") Nathan, who is currently at Julliard, penned a play entitled Broke-ology that was entered into the Williamstown Theatre Festival. This is a big deal. The WTF is like the Cannes Film Festival or Sundance of theatre, and after showing at the festival, Nathan's play could very likely get picked up by a theatre company and show on Broadway in the next couple of years.

Despite all that coolness, I had another reason for accompanying my roommate to the Birkshires...the play starred Gaius Charles, who also plays Smash Williams in Friday Night Lights. Maybe you recall me dedicating an entire blog entry to the show. (Are you watching yet?) For S, Smash's appearance was just icing on the cake; she's a fan of the show as well. So we bought our tickets, rented a car, and planned our trip to Williamstown.

We used my credit card to rent the car, so that meant I had to drive. In New York City. I was actually hoping I would never have to drive here. It is scary. People honk and run red lights, and I gripped that steering wheel tightly.

Keeping my eyes on the road, S, her friend, and I made it out of the city in one piece.

The trip to Williamstown is four hours of lush green scenery dotted with charming villages and idyllic farmhouses. We even came across a little touristy country store that sold fudge and turtle candies the size of my hand. You better believe I bought one. Since I haven't driven for a long time, my body was a little sore and tired from driving. I was very happy to see this sign:

The play was beautiful. The story involves a family (a widower and his two sons) dealing with the issues being stuck in a bad Kansas City neighborhood. One son went away to school, and is afraid to get stuck, his brother stuck facing a bleak future of going nowhere, and the father, dealing with MS, regrets never helping his family have a better life. Throughout the play, Nathan wove rules to the game of dominoes throughout the themes of the play. It was warm, touching, and also pretty funny. I enjoyed it immensely.

After the show, Nathan (above) and his wife (below) invited us over to the place they are staying to hang out with the cast. Oh yes, the whole cast, including Gaius Charles. This was cool enough, but the other cast members were just as cool.

Playing the father was Wendell Pierce. Now, I cannot pinpoint where I've seen him, but he has an extensive resume including films such as The Fighting Temptations, Malcom X and Ray, as well as appearances on Law & Order, In Plain Sight, plus he had a recurring role on HBO's critically acclaimed The Wire. He was seriously the most down-to-earth person. I would never guess that he was a Julliard-graduate actor if I saw him on the subway. S and I clicked with him right away. He even showed Sarah how to play bones, er dominos. His friends were pretty cool too. Joining him was a graphic artist by the name of Powell, and Ricky a jazz musician who plays in Wynton Marselis' band.

S and I told ourselves we will allow ourselves five minutes of dorkiness over Gaius, but after that we would have to be cool, calm and collected. While eating our pizza, S got Gauis' attention to let him know that we were fans of the show. I told him that he was the reason I came up to watch the play. Sadly, he couldn't spill any secrets about the show, but that's fine; it's better to be surprised anyway. We did talk about Seattle, bakeries (and my goals to open a bakery), talk show hosting (S's aspirations) and how he needs to take time to play...by going to Seattle. It was so cool. When I asked him about living in Austin, TX (where FNL is filmed) he told me I looked like an Austin-ite. It's a total compliment. He even asked me about my decision to become a vegetarian. He is not like the cocky football star character he plays on Friday Night Lights. Not that that would be a bad thing. It just shows that he is a good actor. He's a working one as well. Not only did he do this play during his FNL hiatus, he also worked on two indie films. (This is why he needs to take a break and play.)

After some good chitchat and a couple games of bones, Gaius took us to Lickety Split, Williamstown's ice cream parlour. I don't eat much dairy anymore, but for blackberry-flavored ice cream I will deal with a tummy ache. It is just one of the things you do to hang out with Gauis Charles...and Wendell Pierce...and an artist named Powell...and Ricky the jazz musician...and up-and-coming-playwright Nathan Louis Jackson.

(L to R: Gaius, S, Wendell, S's friend--who slyly got Gaius' email address. It helps that she had no idea who he was--yours truly, and Ricky.)

We did have to pay the piper, so to speak, for breaking the Sabbath. We got a parking ticket on the rental car after circling for a very long time to find a place. Although the ticket was $165, it is a small price to pay for the Best Celebrity Experience. Ever.

Big Sigh

Fabian Cancellara of Switzerland, World Time Trial Champion (in cycling, obviously), is hot, fast and fabulous. I think I'm in love.

Best of luck to you in this year's year Tour de France...also known as the Best Sporting Event in the World.

A Tale of Two Oglings

Two weeks ago I spent a lovely Monday exploring the Lower East Side (LES)with one of my friends. As we were eating lunch at Clinton St. Baking Company, my friend mentioned that the LES has a non-fancy lingirie store where a little old lady picks out a perfect bra just by looking at the customer's chest. Intrigued, I said we needed to find it since I desperately needed a new brassiere. Seriously. The one I was wearing on that day was an old one that I purchased from Victoria Secret about four years ago. And I think we all know that Vicky's bras are not made to last that long--epecially since they aren't meant to be worn for more than two hours at a time. This particular one was too big and had no elasticity.

This spontaneous bra-shopping excursion was meant to be because it did not take us long to find the little, unassuming lingirie shop. The store was filled with shelves full of long, thin boxes holding all types of women's underpinnings. I am sure there was some sort of organizational system, but it was unclear to the untrained eye. With all the clutter and the flourescent lighting, it was hard to realize that this was a place to get the perfect bra. I looked for a little old lady, but only saw a middle-aged African-American woman and an older, fat, Orthodox Jew...man. He asked what I needed, and I said that I would like to buy a new bra. I thought he was going to call for some unseen granmotherly-type woman hiding behind the curtain, but instead he asked me to remove my over-the-shoulder-strapped bag and proceeded to stare at my chest and and ask me questions about my cup size. It was very odd. Orthodox Jews are not allowed to even touch members of the opposite sex except the person to whom they are married, but somehow it was perfectly all right for this particular Orthodox Jew to stare at my bosom.

He picked out one bra but it was a little too big. (The middle-aged African-Amercan helped with the fitting, naturally.) The next bra, however, was perfect. Absolutely, 100% perfect. I noticed that the brand he chose was, Wacoal, a brand that costs about $50-$70 at department stores like Lord & Taylor's. Since I don't have that disposable income quite yet, I was concerned about handing over my debit card. But I sucked it up--after all, it fit so well. (I even wore it out of the store.) But when ringing up my total the Orthodox Jew announced that the grand total was $22.00. See, even more perfect. The first garbage can I saw, I ceremoniously threw out that old Victoria Secret bra. (Just so you know...I do have newer bras than that Vicky bra.)

My friend and I left the shop smirking and I stated that the experience was the first time I wasn't creeped out after a guy totally stared at my chest. It happens more than I care to admit, and probably happens more than I am aware of (thankfully). But there are some guys who are just so blatant about their staring problems.

Case in point: About an hour later, my friend and I were hankering for a pickle. It is a little odd to crave a pickle, but we were hanging out in the pickle neighborhood. We found one, but after smelling that strong smell of vinegar neither of us wanted a pickle. (Plus we were probably full from the gelato/sorbet we had eaten.) One of the male workers asked if he could help us, and my friend replied that we were just enjoying the view. Then he quipped that he was also "enjoying the view" as he looked us up and down. Ugh. Creepy. We left post-haste. However, now that I think of it, he probably would not have enjoyed the view nearly as much if I was still wearing that awful Victoria Secret bra.

Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can't Lose!
Last year, about this time, I took a lovely trip to Texas to fete the marraige of my lovely cousin. (Happy anniversary C&C!) You may recall in my post about the trip that I love Texas, and I often think about heading straight to Austin when I'm done with this city. I wanted to go back to Texas this year, but with a limited income and no vacation days I had to stay here. However, I did manage to get to Texas another way--via a marathon of Friday Night Lights episodes on Hulu.com.

After watching two entire seasons of the critically-acclaimed football drama, I have just one question for you: WHY AREN'T YOU WATCHING THIS SHOW? It has to be the best show on television, and if you can only choose one drama with which to devote your limited tv time, this is the one to watch.

Oh, I know what you're thinking: I hate football or I hate teen dramas, so please allow me to refute your arguments. First of all, I hate football. I don't follow it, and I only watch the Superbowl for the food. I also don't care for teen dramas. I've never seen an episode of The OC and I make fun of the others.

FNL is just different. Basically, the show is about a fictional high school football team, the Dillon Panthers, in a small Texas town with a strong football tradition. While the tv show is fiction, it is inspired by Odessa, Texas' Permian Panthers--the subject of the book and film, Friday Night Lights. (Yes, I am currently reading the book.) In the late 80's, when the book was written, the Permian Panthers had the best record in the nation, including college and professional teams. The book not only explores the team's success in the stadium, but also the town's devotion to them and the dramas of high school students growing up in small-town Texas. The show does the same thing.

While shows like One Tree Hill may have their "very special episode" about racism, drugs and teen sex, they lack the authenticity behind FNL's handling of those types of storylines. I am not sure how their formula works, but I suppose it is because the characters are not spoiled, rich kids who are aspiring fashion designers or have other posh goals, with the token minority and geek. The teens of FNL range from Applebee's waitress, born-again Christian, smart kid, parapalegic, and the kid who takes care of his grandma with Alzheimer's because his dad is in Iraq. Sure, all the kids are pretty, and a handful of them are football stars, but I never feel a lack of sincerity when exploring tougher storylines. It could be the cinematography. No soft lights and still cameras here. The filming style of the handheld cameras help show a peek into the lives of Dillon residents, instead of staged representations of the issues.

Another aspect of the show that I appreciate is the parents. This show has "real parents"--parents who don't try to be their kids' best friends, parent who act (and are) smarter than their teenage kids, and most importantly, they are parents who aren't afraid to discipline--even when it could make a relationship with a child a little chilly. (Disclaimer: there are a few bad parents on the show, but main characters Coach and Tammy Taylor are examples of good parenting. "Smash" Williams' mom is another fine example.)

I actually like the football on this show. I even stood up and cheered when Santiago smashed into the opposing team's QB. Someone once suggested that I enjoy Dillon Panther football because I have become friends with members of the team. This is probably true, although I hate thinking that I have a relationship with people on TV. It makes me feel like a recluse.

Friday Night Lights is good tv. It is smart tv, and I think you should all watch it. The third season starts this fall and you have plenty of time to catch up on past episodes through Hulu.com and NBC.com.

If you need one more reason, check out the following picture of QB1 Matt Saracen (brilliantly played by Zach Guilford). Isn't he reason enough?

Crazy Eye, Stink Eye...Pink Eye

As I was quickly downing my cold chili lunch today at The Bakery, a manager asked how my day was going, paused, and asked if I was okay. Confused, I said that I was fine, and she then asked me why my eye was all blood-shot. I had no answer, but I suspected the dreaded pink eye. While this condition has not been confirmed by a medical professional, my eye is pink, goopy, and feels kinda funny. Since I work with food, this isn't a good thing. But at least I get to take some time off.

But that's the trouble with pink eye. Sure, the eye looks a little wonky, but I feel fine and would like to go out and play. Or go to a baseball game like I wanted to do tonight. However, no one wants me around. The girls at Anthropologie won't want me touching their pretty clothes, grocery stores don't want me hanging around the produce, and no one wants me on the subway...which is probably where I picked up this little infection of mine in the first place.

Your Sixth Drink? You Lush!

So about three weeks ago or so, I had my fancy schmancy birthday mocktail party. Let me begin by saying that it was a blast for many reasons. First of all, people came. Secondly, people dressed up. Thirdly, they drank.

H was the champion drinker; her goal was to try every drink we offered. It was a tall order since the menu consisted of the following teetotaller beverages: appletinis, mai tais, lemon drops, tequila-less sunrise, sangria, passionfruit mojitos, margaritas, pina coladas, and anything that goes well with an olive. Come to think of, I think I finished off that list.
Here I am with two of my roommates as we show-off the beverages. You will note that we are all wearing black dresses. We recommended to our guests that they show up in cocktail attire (it was a cocktail party after all). Thus the LBD (Little Black Dress, for the non-fashionably inclined) was in full force, but some people showed up in much brighter colors.
This picture unfortunately did not capture this guest's bright blue tights. My roommate bought the pink cocktail shaker for the party. It was a very wise investment. She figured that if the party was a success we would do mocktail party sequels, and we would need a shaker.

I was really greatful for the turnout. It made me so happy to be surrounded by friends, and it made me feel that I actually had a place in this huge, bustling city which like a pinball machine seems to constantly push me in frantic directions. So enjoy some pictures of guests...or people that help me feel more settled.

I am proud of this brave married couple who joined fun, mingling with a crowd of singles.
The girl on the right helped me make sugar cookies. She came over in the nick of time. I spent all day prearing the mini-tarts, cheese puffs, and other treats, but I didn't give myself too much time to shower and look presentable. Thanks to her help, I looked pretty good that night.
My roommates proved mighty helpful that night as well, mixing drinks and replenishing the food that everyone seemed to enjoy.

We had a very fashionable crowd.

And despite all the LBDs, the only matching outfits were these two fellows. If you look closely, you will see how exactly matched they were...except for the black jacket.
This is actually a rather dorky picture of me. I am biting a maraschino cherry and not at looking seductive while doing so. That was the plan. I was trying to recreate that iconic Breakfast at Tiffany's image of Audrey in that Givenchy black dress, the pearls, and smoking a cigarette on a long holder. This was my modern take: my Banana Republic black dress, black pearls....and a maraschino cherry.

The appletinis, that my roommate is holding, was the hit of the evening. Someone stated that it was like drinking a green apple Jolly Rancher. The Tequila-less Sunrise was the second-most popular drink.

A lot people took pictures, and they are probably better than mine; they just haven't been forwarded to me yet. Hint, hint. I got tired of posing for photos like the one above. But check out the girl on the right. It's not a super-detailed photo, so I will have to tell you that the eyelashes and most of the hair were not her own. That was total mocktail party commitment.

And that is the aftermath. We left the cleanup to the one roommate who didn't make it to the party. Don't worry, she volunteered.

I had a great time, but more importantly it appeared that everyone had a great time as well. So good that you may read future posts at the phenomenal New York event: Mocktail Sundays.

Morsels from the Bakery

A lot of people ask me about my job, so I thought I would take this opportunity to share some goings on at the Bakery.

1. I am glad that I get to ice cakes because it means that I have less contact with our customers, also known as The Most Spoiled People on the Planet. I still have to answer some of their queries, like "don't you have anything without sugar" (umm...NO!) or "can you get me that cupcake in the case that is completely out of reach because it is purple and has a flower on it?" I hate the last question the most. The Bakery is known around town for letting customers choose the cupcake they desire and then putting their chosen treat in their own box. In the original store this works out rather well. The cupcakes are placed on a table, and people pick from the ones on the trays and don't say a peep about it. In the Upper West Side, however, it doesn't work as well. We place our open trays of cupcakes on top of a case where customers can see the other cupcakes and so if the only pink ones available has blue sprinkles and they want a pink one with green sprinkles, they will point and say that they "have to have that one." It does not matter if all the buttercream is vanilla flavored, or if the sprinkles really have no flavor whatsoever, these customers demand the out of reach cupcake. (Sometimes they erroneously believe that the ones on the bottom shelf are fresher. Sorry kids, the cakes and frostings were all made at the same time.) Sometimes when they ask, "Can you get me the purple one on the second shelf?" I want to say, "Can you be a grown-up and choose one from the ones placed before?" Sometimes I wish we only made one color of frosting with one type of sprinkle so we wouldn't have to deal with their whininess. I think that would be considered cupcake communism.

2. Another thing I would like to say to the people of the Upper West Side: Red Velvet cupcakes are not one of your unalienable rights. If we don't have them when you come in, don't complain, just suck it up and get a slice of cake.

3. The Bakery sees a lot of photographers and photo shoots. Recently we had a shoot with The Owner and three top-rated chefs, including Daniel Boulud. I didn't realize how cool that was at the time; I was more concerned about stepping over tripods while carrying cakes. Anyway, Daniel Boulud is a 4-Star chef who is a bigger name that Anthony Bourdain in the biz. He owns a gaggle of $25o/plate restaurants, writes for Epicurean Magazine and was in that Queen Latifah movie, The Last Holiday. Don't be ashamed if you didn't know this tidbit of knowledge, I found out after I met him. During a quick photo break, he watched me ice a cake, asked a few questions, and suggested doing a "stage" (or mini-internship) to learn how to ice cakes. Of course I agreed, although I knew he was joshing. One of the managers asked if I knew who he was, I pretended that I did. One of coworkers clued me in later.

4. Our Bakery is now Kosher, which is a really good idea for an Upper West Side location with its large Jewish population. We didn't have to change too much on our menu, but we now no longer make the IceBox Cake since the chocolate wafers are not kosher. Have no fear, I still know how to make it.

Here's a little lesson about going to stake conference. I went to mine in April and heard many talks about being charitable and servie-oriented. After it was all over I ran into a friend who is a fellow new-music lover. She informed me that one of my new music obsessions, She & Him, was going to be in town on the upcoming Tuesday. With much elation and probably some jumping up and down I decided that I would splurge and make an appearance at the show. Of course tickets were sold out, but I was extra nice and servicable to customers that day so good karma would smile on me and provide me with a ticket. (I saw sold out Bon Iver for free in February because some guy had an extra ticket.) I nearly succombed to a scalper, but luckily another random guy needed to get rid of a ticket.

Let me give you a background on She & him because you may not have heard me chatter on about this group..or you didn't get to go to South By Southwest...or you don't have a subscription to Entertainment Weekly...or you don't listen to All Songs Considered. Well, She & Him is the charming little project from stellar music producer M.Ward and indie actress Zooey Deschanel. In fact, you may have heard her sing before, if you saw the movie, Elf. She has an amazing amazing amazing voice, and she almosts channels Patsy Cline. M.Ward isn't too shabby either, and after Tuesday, he has pretty much replaced Gary Lightbody as my rockstar crush. (Gary, you still have a chance. All you need to do is go to the bakery, toss me a wink, smile and possibly your phone number and you will be back on the top of the list.)

The concert was a blast considering Zooey was dealing with some laryngitis. She still sang solidly, but she didn't talk to the audience. Instead she would hold up signs with phrases normally heard from the band frontman like, "Hello New York!" or "You All Look Great!" or "Thank You!" It was rather delightful in sign-form. I was too far away to take decent pictures, and my camera battery died. Instead, thanks to the invention of YouTube, I have supplied you with clips from the show: 1. "Why Do You Let Me Stay Here" - my favorite and 2. "You Really Got a Hold on Me" or "How M.Ward Usurped Gary Lightbody as My Rockstar Crush."





Oh yeah, those lessons learned? Go to stake conference and you will hear about rock concerts. Be nice and helpful to others and someone will sell you a ticket to a sold out show. Or something like that.

It's Birthday Time!!

So today is my birthday; I am 32 years old now. I am not too sure about claiming such a large number...especially since I could pass for a college student. (I LOVE the surprised look on people's faces when I reveal my age.) But so it is that I am a year older. So far the birthday celebrations have been pretty fun (fyi, I tend to spend several days fete-ing the day of my birth). Last night I went tango dancing at the fanciest YMCA I have ever seen...seriously this place had a dance room with some lovely light fixtures. (How that equates to "fancy" is probably a bit of a stretch, but humor me.) I danced with a lot of older gentleman (senior citizens, to be exact. But at my extreme age maybe I should get used to my partners), but some of them actually danced quite well. I had an interesting experience when I danced with a guy who, at a slight distance, was the spitting image of my dad. He was a great deal shorter, however. I even learned a bit of Milonga, an Argentine dance like tango but with a faster rhythm.

Tonight I made some dinner for my roommates and friend, Sarah, and afterwards we watched Roman Holiday. Since it is Audrey Hepburn's birthday as well, I thought it best to watch one of her films--it also happens to be a favorite of mine. I love this movie, even though at the end I heave a sad sigh that I cannot run off to Rome for a frolicking good time with Gregory Peck. Maybe "frolick" isn't the best word choice. You know what I mean.

The fun will continue on Saturday with a fun Breakfast at Tiffany's-esque mocktail party. It should be a good time, and I will post pictures and details. I expect you see a little Audrey Hepburn theme running through the birthday celebrations. That's just how I roll. (I even dressed at beatnik Audrey from Funny Face for a friend's sock-hop themed birthday party Friday night). This beautiful actress has been quite the fashion-icon for me, so it should be no surprise to the masses that I choose her or her work as my inspiration for stuff. One of these days I may surprise you all and do a Dolly Parton-themed shindig.

Anyway, that's my birthday in a nutshell. Soon I will post something a bit more poignant discussing how I really feel about being 32.

The Taxman Cometh

I owe taxes this year. Considering I spent seven months in 2007 freelancing, I expected to pay alot and planned accordingly. Good thing, too, because I owe a rather large amount. I am not going to give you the exact figure, but let me tell you that I nearly considered having my eggs harvested and sold to the highest bidder to pay the bill to the IRS, the State of New York and the City of New York. (Oh yes, we pay for the privilege to live here.) Fortunately I saved enough dinero, and will therefore save my eggs for my own use...someday...hopefully.

Dance Fever

When I was a student at BYU, I spent a lot of time in ballroom dance classes. I imagined myself quite the dancer, and I took as many classes as I could (i.e. all the social dance levels, two of the latin class levels and three of the standard class levels). My biggest goal was to be on the ballroom dance team...however because practically every girl at BYU also had a similar ambition, I never made it. I would attend every competition and ballroom dance show and watched the good dancers jealously, wishing I could dance as well. Then I went on a mission and any dance skill I had declined miserably. Fortunately I clasped on to important dance skills like following a lead, strong dance position and not tripping. (While dancing. I still trip a lot otherwise.)

I used those few skills when, while living in Seattle, I joined a friend in taking some swing dance classes. First of all, let me begin by saying that I don't love swing dance; I find it too sloppy. I also didn't care for those swing dance teachers in Seattle. They really didn't give good instructions, saying that swing wasn't supposed be intricately perfect (but it would be nice to know what to follow), and they would change the name of their steps when I called them on their errors. (When you dance a whip call it a whip. Don't dance the step and say you did something entirely different.) I was pretty vocal in that class and I am sure that the instructors were glad when I stopped going.

Even though I stopped dancing, it has always been something that I enjoy. Not enough to follow "Dancing with the Stars," however. I wish my ballroom teachers at BYU were judges on that show. I can't picture Lee Wakefield being as nice as the judges on that hit show. Anyway, I was recently invited to take some dance classes, and the dancing bug has bit once more.

My roommate Carrie is a former dancer, and to keep her skills sharp she takes classes at Alvin Ailey. (I'm not sure if she can do that move in the above picture.) In February she was not able to use some of her prepaid dance classes, and she invited me to use them. I took West African, jazz and ballet classes. They were tons of fun. Although the African class was envigorating, I felt that I didn't have enough junk in my trunk to look like a good African dancer. I looked like a gangly white girl flailing my arms about willy-nilly. The ballet class was good, but my knees made horrible cracking noises with each plie, and the Asian guy wearing white tights made me blush. I liked the jazz class the best. The teacher was fantastic--encouring with good criticism--and I actually remembered the routine and was able to dance it, leaps and everything, without falling.

Glowing from the positive dance experience I decided to sign up for the Argentine Tango class offered at Alvin Ailey. Tango has always been my favorite dance at BYU, and I have been interested in learning real Argentine Tango. I like the drama. So my most helpful mom sent me my dance shoes and some dinero, and I started my class.

Ok, this horrible, but I can't remember my teacher's name, but I will tell you that he is 100% Argentine, complete with a very thick accent. He still can't say my name. On the first day I was more than ready to whip my head around and do the fancy kicks and swivels that I have seen others perform (like that couple I saw dancing on Las Ramblas in Barcelona), but I found that this class teaches a newer form of tango that is smoother and calmer than the style of dance performed in competetions and "Dancing with the Stars." There are no head snaps and no dramatic passion, but instead a softer and more romantic dance. The instructor refers to it as "Superman Tango" instead of "Robocop Tango." Even though I was expecting the old-school, I am thoroughly enjoying this new style, and the modern tango music we dance to. If only I had a significant other in the class with me.

The biggest plus of the class is that I am, and I don't mean to brag...(actually, I do), the star pupil. This is a first. I was never the star pupil at BYU. I have been able to learn the steps and technique relatively quickly, and so the teacher calls on me to help demonstrate new steps and such. It helps that I already learned how to have a good dance frame, to take heel leads, and to follow a partner's lead. At first the instructor would only call on me occasionally, but during the last class he called on me every time except once. I think the other girls are jealous.

P.S. A further testament to my utter coolness

Just a little update to let you know that the cake I did for Matthew Broderick was for his wife, Sarah Jessica Parker's birthday. Oh yes, it's true. THEY ATE MY CAKE!!!!!!!

Why didn't I have my camera that day?????

My deepest apologies for not writing.

I discovered Facebook. But now that my nose is out of my computer I hope to experience some life to share.

For Easter I took a trip to our nation's capital with my roommate Carrie and our friends Sarah and Ryan. I have taken a few trips down there this year to meet some of Carrie's friends and to extend my network of acquaintances on the eastern seaboard. Or something like that. We did not eat a "traditional" Easter meal with ham, cheesy potatoes and rolls. Instead we had raclette, a Swiss-made cheese that is melted under a heating element and poured over meat, potatoes, fruits and veggies.

It may not have been cheesy potatoes, but it was cheese and potatoes...and olives, cornichons, pineapple, pickled tomatoes, bacon, sirloin, baguettes...

This is how you do raclette. The cheese slices are under the grill, and the meat stays warm on the top shelf.

It isn't Easter without Robin's Eggs used as lip coloring. Sarah, Carrie and I kept the tradition alive...just for you.

I should have gone to church like that.

Here is just a few photos of some stuff that I have been making. A few weeks ago I tried my hand at some whole wheat Challah bread. It turned out pretty well, but it lacked some of that true Challah sweetness. Despite that, it made some wicked French toast.

You can't tell, but for this cake that I took to a Project Runway party, I wrote the famous phrase, "Make it Work." My biggest fear with my job was writing on cakes. A few years ago I took a cake decorating class and my inscriptions were really lousy. I mean, seriously, if you have ever even seen my handwriting this should come as no surprise. However, my inscriptions are pretty good! See below.

Believe it or not, this was one of my first inscriptions on a small 6-inch cake. Not too shabby. I really like doing the inscriptions, and today I even had to opportunity to write "Happy Birthday" on a cake for Matthew Broderick. I just wish I had a camera to capture that moment!!

My Favorite 2008 Oscar Moments





"Once" was my favorite movie of 2007, and I was so ecstatic that this beautiful song won an Oscar. Plus, Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova's acceptance speeches were heartwarming and made me feel joyful about great films and great musicians.

Don't Say I Didn't Warn You

Even though I have never had a significant other during this time of year, I have always liked Valentine's Day. Sure, it's a fake holiday for the sole purpose of buying stuff, but it is fun and sweet and it makes me happy--even though some of the general populace think I should be bitter about the lack o' love junk.

However, I actually heard the words "I hate Valentine's Day" escape my lips today at work. It had nothing to do with the actual faux-holiday, it had more to do with the obnoxious Upper West Side ladies who come in to demand a huge number of cupcakes, and then chewing out the manager for not icing them fast enough. I really wanted to shout, "It's just a @*&$@# #$(*#&$) !#%$* cupcake for Pete's sake" (Who is Pete?) Please note that we have no problem with large cupcake orders, provided you call ahead.

So because I spent some time fuming about the Valentine's craziness we had to deal with today, I did realize that I have some pet peeves associated with February 14th. Well, mostly for the type of gifts people give on this day. So without further ado, here is the Valentine's Day addition of my Deal Breakers. (Or, what you may be really thinking: the real reason she doesn't have a significant other on any day.)

1. Mylar balloons. Especially mylar balloons that play sappy love songs. Oh, yes folks, they do exist and they are AWFUL.
2. Stuffed animals. I am not five years old.
3. Red roses. I know, I know I have a heart of stone. It's just that the red rose is completely ubiquitous. All I'm asking is for a little imagination because Heavenly Father created lots of flowers for us to enjoy. Like hydrangeas and peonies. They may be out of season...Roses with other colors are acceptable.
4. The heart-shaped pendant. I don't really do jewelry, and I repeat: I am not five years old.
5. Heart-shaped boxes of chocolate purchased at the local Rite Aid. Finding out my favorite chocolatier and getting even three pieces would make me a lot happier.
6. Any mix of music containing the following artists: Air Supply, Chicago, REO Speedwagon and/or Celine Dion. (Those are just the first to come to mind. Proceed with caution.)
8. Overly mushy cards.
7. When married: no skank outfits from smutshops. I'm assuming I will still find those tacky.

What would this cold-hearted broad like for this holiday?
1. A book I've been wanting to read/ copy significant other's favorite book
2. A collection of significant other's favorite songs
3. Laura Secord or Leonidas chocolate
4. A home-cooked meal or a favorite restaurant.
5. Today I could totally use a massage.
6. When married: cute nighties from Anthropologie
7. When married: hot, steamy...tapioca pudding (my mind does not go there.)

So, to the masses, I pose a question requesting comments. I would like to validate my pickiness. What are your Valentine's Gift deal breakers. What would you rather get?

Racking up yet another Project Runway sighting.

Perhaps you recall that I saw Michael Kors in December. It was certainly exciting, but little did I know that my Project Runway sightings were not over. Last Friday was the Project Runway show at Fashion Week. I didn't get invited to the show (obviously), but even if I did, I would have had to work anyway. While I was frosting cakes, I thought it would be really cool if one the PR contestants came in for a cupcake or banana pudding or whatever. I sighed after my little musing and went back to work.

Just as I was about to depart the bakery I saw Elisa Jimenez, the very ethereal, fairy-like contestant who was auf'd at the end of the Hershey challenge. I couldn't believe it! What I also couldn't believe is that I had the courage to actually talk to her. She was so nice! And really buff. And she liked my bag. (The bag that I wrote a eulogy about. I fixed it after I had a revelation about it in the temple. I am not making that up.) I pointed out the stuff I liked from the show and asked her what she is up to these days. She designs in New York and informed me that she frequently does shows in the city. THEN she proceeded to ask for my card so she could invite me to future shows. I must admit I was a little speechless at the offer, then embarrassed because I don't have a card (yet!). I pointed out that I worked at Magnolia. Since neither of us had a pen or paper she asked for my number and then put it into her cell phone. She immediately called me so I could have her number as well. (I will not post it because that would be mean.)

Then she said that I looked like a turn-of-the-century doll. I was really touched. She was a lot kinder than she needed to be to some random fan of the show. So I wish her the best in her future endeavors, and hopefully I get to blog about one of her shows!

Welcome to the world of the prematurely hearing impaired.

Since I have this great job with a sizably smaller salary, I had to give up my membership at Crunch. Since I will have to start exercising out of doors, I wanted to get an iPod to keep me entertained while walking around. (The TVs at Crunch used to keep me on the elliptical machines for 40 minutes). So my mom took pity on me and for a Christmas/birthday/I better not ask for anything else gift, she bought me the pretty iPod Nano I've had my eye on since their debut (and subsequent style change).

I love love love my iPod. It has changed my life. Ok maybe not my life, but it has certainly changed the way I walk. Most of you may know that I am a fast walker. I walk with a purpose, but there isn't much flair to the way I walk. Now, with my iPod earbuds tucked firmly in my ears, I have a little more strut in my stride. My head is held a little higher, and perhaps there is more bounce and a little more sway. I must admit some songs make me want to break out and dance, but I refrain because quite frankly, there are enough loco people on the streets of New York as it is.

The other thing I love about my Nano is podcast subscriptions. For starters, they are free, so I get new things to listen to all the time. I am an NPR fan without a radio, but I can subscribe to podcasts and listen to current episodes of This American Life. (Sidebar: I HEART this program, and especially Ira Glass. His delivery is succint yet compelling. I saw an "I Love Ira Glass" tote bag in a magazine gift guide and I have coveted it ever since. Mom, how 'bout for next Christmas?) Not only do I subscribe to TAL, but I also listen to Radio 360, RadioLab, NPR's Song of the Day, Morning Becomes Eclectic and All Songs Considered. All Songs Considered is another of my favorites because they broadcast live concerts. Since I probably can't afford to see Bon Iver on Fabruary 22nd, I can listen to the live broadcast from D.C. on February 19th.

I am a little afraid that I will go deaf. I have to turn the volume all the way up when riding the subway because those trains are loud. I may have to invest in some of those noise reducing headphones. Mom? Haha just kidding. Who has my name for Christmas?

Magnolia Bakery's ever-popular Red Velvet Cake.

Carrot Cake.

German Chocolate Cake

Chocolate Cake with gooey, soft Chocolate Icing

Icebox Cakes: Mint on the left, regular on the right.

That is little ol' me decorating Chocolate Pudding Pies. This photo is courtesy of Rich Press, who took the picture on behalf of Bloomberg wire service. We have had several photographers document our opening and decorating process. I haven't shown up in print yet, but it was incredibly nice of Rich to send me one that he took of me.

Last week I started my Cake Icer training. Under that job title, I am responsible for making the icebox cakes, banana puddings, plus the cake icings (which include buttercream, chocolate buttercream, Whipped Vanilla--for the Red Velvet, cream cheese, meringue...). I also get to decorate the cakes, pudding pies and cheesecakes. It is not easy, and when the crowds form, I do feel a little bit stressed. But for the most part I look forward to going to work. I am also eager to see where I will go from here.

Since we opened two and a half weeks ago, I think we have sold a million cupcakes. Okay, maybe not a million, but pretty darn close. My arm feels like it has frosted over a million cupcakes. (I will provide dessert for the person who wants to massage the icing arm.) When we first opened the doors, everything was so surreal. I couldn't believe I left public relations/the office culture to work in an environment that I was eager to leave behind in high school. But this is SO much better than my first job (at McDonald's). For starters, I deal with a lot less fried foods. We also get the occasional celebrity. Apparently Kobe Bryant came in last Sunday. I didn't see him, but I did see Yoanna House (America's Next Top Model Cycle 2 Winner), and I swear Francis McDormand came in. I just hope Upper West Side resident Bono comes in. Or Ed Norton. After watching The Painted Veil he is my celebrity crush du jour. (Good movie, by the way.)

I am pleased to note that I have only tried one dessert per week, so I have not experienced any weight gain. I also attended a party on Saturday and didn't have time to change my clothes. So while being covered in frosting, sugar and banana pudding, I totally chatted with a guy who asked for my number. So even though I don't get health insurance, it looks like this job comes with other benefits. (Now if only Ed Norton would come in while I am covered in sugar...)