On Saturday, I nearly punched another woman.
Zach and I were so happy to have Dan home for the weekend. We'd had an eventful morning of drinking coffee, puttering around the house and even venturing out for the monthly Costco/Target run. And I had the brilliant idea of stopping off at Coldstone Creamery for a Mother's Day treat. YUM-O.
Upon arriving home, we began to unload the Explorer. I'd gone into the garage when I heard one of our neighbor's yell out at the end of the driveway. I had sticky meat packages in my hand, so I ran in quick to put them on the counter and wash off. As I walked back out to the road to say hi, she says this...Looks like you have the same belly issues I have! (pat, pat, pat) I was still not quite down the driveway so I said, what? Surely I didn't hear her correctly. And then she said it again!!! Yep, heard her right and yep, heard her laugh after she said it.
Dan continued to quickly walk back into the house (smart to stay out of that one!) and the neighbor's dog was yapping and I could see visions of this woman laying on the pavement...but I took a deep breath and ignored what she said. Then I mentioned something about the dog, and told her that I would see her later. And walked in the house FUMING.
Since when did women get the right to comment outright about another person's body shape. Have I seen this woman in 6 months? NO. Do we exercise together? NO. Do we even interact socially? About one bonfire per summer. Do I--at all--think that the two of us are anywhere near the same size? NO.
(deep breathing)
Knowing that I could not say anything back to her face without being unChristian and evil, I thought the next best thing would be to blog my feelings. It's always good to be public about your frustrations, right?
Here are 10 things that I wish I could have said:
1. At least I don't smoke.
2. At least my dog knows how to walk on a leash. That is the first time I have ever seen your dog on one. Didn't know that you had one!
3. You will always be at least ten years older than me.
4. You may be ten years older than me, but with all your wrinkles, you look twenty years older. I use face cream. It helps around the eye area.
5. Funny thing, maybe you haven't seen me but I have been exercising--running--past your house at least every other day for the past three weeks. I'm guessing that my little winter gut from these last few months will be gone long before yours.
6. Do you own a pair of tennis shoes?
7. Ever seen the movie, Mean Girls? Great one. Maybe you should watch it.
8. Note to self, when greeting a neighbor for the first time in over six months, it would be appropriate to at least say hello before picking them apart.
9. When picking someone apart, how about starting with the hair. Oh, no? Yours looks great? Hmmm...
10. Oh, are you pregnant? A little old for that, aren't you?
Why do stupid comments from people we don't even care about hurt so much? I couldn't pitch that one out of my head all night. I have gained weight over the winter. I was the exercise queen last summer and as soon as the fall hit, I stopped. I hibernated. Christmas was stressful and there were yummy goodies everywhere. Then Dan lost his job and I didn't really care what I ate or how often. So, yeah. I could lose some weight. But the point is...do we dare openly criticize someone for it? Wow. I had another friend mention to me over the winter that we were alike because we "caried our weight in our butts." Did I ASK for your opinion about my butt? Maybe I am sensitive because I have never weighed this much in my life, but good grief. Respect is respect. Let's support each other in the never ending battle of losing weight, not hurt each other.
Keep your opinion to yourself, sister. I'll ask for it if I want it.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Thursday, May 7, 2009
On marriage
Okay, so the story of the day is Kate Gosselin's interview on the Today Show. If you have not watched the clip, you can find it anywhere (today I don't feel like doing links--I know you are disappointed). I happened to catch the interview before taking Zach to school today and I couldn't stop thinking about it. The context for the interview was to promote Kate's new book, but of course Meredith could not avoid discussing the elephant in the room--Jon's alleged affair. Jon had pulled out of the interview at the last minute and issued a statement about the photos from US Weekly. Now video footage has appeared backing up the claim that he is cheating on Kate.
I wish the same for Jon and Kate.
Why do we care? Because the show Jon & Kate plus 8 is the number one show on TLC right now. The whole world seems to care.
Anyway, she made a statement over and over again at the end of the interview. She said that the kids were the focus. They always were the focus. They would continue to be the focus. I wanted her to say...my marriage is my number one priority right now. I wanted her to say, Jon and I love each other and are committed to work through this. She did say that they were working on it privately, but a simple statement like that would have added to her support of their marriage.
A few years ago, Oprah had an author on her show who received backlash because she had stated in an essay that she loved her husband more than her children. I realize that Kate may not have been in the mindset to say that right now on national television. I am sure that she is very angry and embarrassed. But after all is said and done, those eight kids will leave the nest. Jon and Kate will look at each other and the silence will be deafening. Any of us who are married and have kids will feel this same emptiness. And I, for one, don't want to look at my husband and wonder who in the world he is and why we are together. I want our marriage to be the focus NOW so that later we can sit contentedly together and be happy to have loved each other.
Today I saw the cutest couple at the coffee shop. Probably mid-sixties, dressed in their golfing clothes, looking at their laptop together. They were sharing a drink and laughing and looking at pictures together. They were flirty and happy. And most obviously in love.
The picture above shows a couple that was on our ferry to Mackinac Island last summer. I could imagine them in their younger years but on the ferry, they were comfortable in the silence. I imagined him patting her hand, and the look of love in his eyes. They were beautiful. Just like the coffee shop couple. And just like I hope my marriage can continue to be.
I wish the same for Jon and Kate.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Smiling through the tears
Yesterday was a blistering torrent of problems, meetings to overcome problems, meetings to become aware of problems, and meetings about things beyond my control. I found out that I was a 'sporty red coupe' in one meeting, then crashed that beauty in another. And on top of it all, I missed my husband. We're beginning Week Three and I think the first day he is out of town, might become known as The Day to Get Through.
And on top of it all, I met J.
A friend had referred her to me because I scrapbooked. Of course, never denying a chance to talk photos and stories, I chatted with her about why she wanted to begin. Her answer dropped me to the ground. She wanted to scrapbook to remember her baby girl who passed away a year ago. Before that moment, I only knew her by sight and could not tell that behind that sweet smile was a woman in deep pain. Her baby had passed away at five weeks old after a freak accident involving another family member. She had not done anything with the photos since that moment but her sister had suggested she put together an album this week. Tomorrow would have been the baby's first birthday. We decided to meet today at lunch to look through her purchases and go through some of my albums and books to get her started.
Today J and I met at lunch. I showed her some simple ways to tell her baby's story suggesting that she celebrate her arrival and remember on page that her baby was incredibly loved. She has an older son and this book will be healing for him, too, and will serve as a wonderful memorial as he grows older. A fast formula concept that I suggested was to use a two-up album with simple, designed pages placed throughout where she could write the birth story, the details, how J decided on her name, who was waiting for her, and even some notes from family members sharing their love. Not knowing how many photos she had, I thought that it would give her plenty of space.
She was beaming the entire time and we got inspired through conversation. We are both mothers and could share our own versions of the births of our kids. We laughed about how neither one of us were planning on buying preemie clothes, but did out of necessity. Later as we started to pack away my stuff, I realized that there was a packet of photos sitting underneath some books.
Are these your photos? Yes, she said smiling.
As I opened the packet, I cried inside. Here was a stack of prints only about an inch high. The life of one tiny baby that fit in the palm of my hand. The pictures were too close and pixelated and blurry and there were far too few. One of baby and dad. One of baby and mom. One of baby and grandma. A bunch with big brother. I exclaimed over them as if I was holding that baby in my arms and could smell her newness. Look at her feet! I love that little tiny dress! Aren't babies funny when they make that face? I think she liked her brother alot. And look at him hug on her. Love that. I looked at her face and she was beaming again.
She didn't care that there was only a tiny stack. She had pictures to cherish her entire life. She didn't see the blurry shots or see the awkward angles. She saw her baby who has a name and a birthday. She could hear that cry and smell her newness and feel the softness of her cheek immediately after she was born.
I can't wait to see what she will create. And I know that no matter what, it will reflect her. She will have begun a different stage in her grieving and will have something tangible to hold in her hands. Documenting the stories of our lives, both bad and good, is important. Whether we have a camera that is from the dark ages or a slicked up 2009 model, it is vital that we record snippets of the day to day. We never can tell what lies around the corner.
I was listening to Christine Dente's Out of the Grey album today (yes, that is OLD!) and I heard this...
If I know you
You will turn this day
Into a perfect surprise.
If I know you
Like I know I do,
The worst of times
Will work out right
And I smiled.
And on top of it all, I met J.
A friend had referred her to me because I scrapbooked. Of course, never denying a chance to talk photos and stories, I chatted with her about why she wanted to begin. Her answer dropped me to the ground. She wanted to scrapbook to remember her baby girl who passed away a year ago. Before that moment, I only knew her by sight and could not tell that behind that sweet smile was a woman in deep pain. Her baby had passed away at five weeks old after a freak accident involving another family member. She had not done anything with the photos since that moment but her sister had suggested she put together an album this week. Tomorrow would have been the baby's first birthday. We decided to meet today at lunch to look through her purchases and go through some of my albums and books to get her started.
Today J and I met at lunch. I showed her some simple ways to tell her baby's story suggesting that she celebrate her arrival and remember on page that her baby was incredibly loved. She has an older son and this book will be healing for him, too, and will serve as a wonderful memorial as he grows older. A fast formula concept that I suggested was to use a two-up album with simple, designed pages placed throughout where she could write the birth story, the details, how J decided on her name, who was waiting for her, and even some notes from family members sharing their love. Not knowing how many photos she had, I thought that it would give her plenty of space.
She was beaming the entire time and we got inspired through conversation. We are both mothers and could share our own versions of the births of our kids. We laughed about how neither one of us were planning on buying preemie clothes, but did out of necessity. Later as we started to pack away my stuff, I realized that there was a packet of photos sitting underneath some books.
Are these your photos? Yes, she said smiling.
As I opened the packet, I cried inside. Here was a stack of prints only about an inch high. The life of one tiny baby that fit in the palm of my hand. The pictures were too close and pixelated and blurry and there were far too few. One of baby and dad. One of baby and mom. One of baby and grandma. A bunch with big brother. I exclaimed over them as if I was holding that baby in my arms and could smell her newness. Look at her feet! I love that little tiny dress! Aren't babies funny when they make that face? I think she liked her brother alot. And look at him hug on her. Love that. I looked at her face and she was beaming again.
She didn't care that there was only a tiny stack. She had pictures to cherish her entire life. She didn't see the blurry shots or see the awkward angles. She saw her baby who has a name and a birthday. She could hear that cry and smell her newness and feel the softness of her cheek immediately after she was born.
I can't wait to see what she will create. And I know that no matter what, it will reflect her. She will have begun a different stage in her grieving and will have something tangible to hold in her hands. Documenting the stories of our lives, both bad and good, is important. Whether we have a camera that is from the dark ages or a slicked up 2009 model, it is vital that we record snippets of the day to day. We never can tell what lies around the corner.
I was listening to Christine Dente's Out of the Grey album today (yes, that is OLD!) and I heard this...
If I know you
You will turn this day
Into a perfect surprise.
If I know you
Like I know I do,
The worst of times
Will work out right
And I smiled.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Mother's Day Wishes
One of the grand things about having a blog is that you can write out wish lists for others to see. I know my husband reads this blessed thing and will be rolling his eyes as he reads this. And so, the wish list might just stay as, well, wishes. Hmmm...you mean publicly saying that you want something does not guarantee that you will get it? Guess I will find out.
I thought I would start my first list for Mother's Day. I like to enable others and pass along important shopping information when I see it. Sort of like a personal shopper. These are the things that the little people or the big guys in our life might take the opportunity to purchase and give to us on that special day with shouts of love and exclamation for all the joy that we bring into their lives! *note to self: don't get carried away--remember husband reads this.
Okay, so my list would start with this: BOOKS. Sorry, I seem to have a thing for ALL CAPS today.
Anyway, here is one that I think could be a new fav, Perfectly Imperfect by Lee Woodruff. I read this excerpt online and immediately loved this book. If I could only write non-fiction like that--! I had already been captured by Lee's writing when I read, In an Instant, the story of her husband Bob's war injuries and how their family survived the ordeal. This one should be a good read, too.
Another book is Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life by Amy Krouse Rosenthal. I have already read this book, but have given and recommended it over and over. I want my own copy, dang it. I have a funny story of reading this on a delayed flight with Dave Lewis, my sales director, on my left and a stranger on my right. I was laughing out loud and sharing with them and in turn, our whole row began laughing out loud. THAT's how good that book is. I love happy books.
A cool gift for the scrapbooker is one of the monthly offerings from Jenni Bowlin or Studio Calico. Lots of fun goodies in the kit and plenty of inspiration. A great price for everything included, plus ideas galore on the site for what to make.
If you don't know how to use your Photoshop Elements very well, Jessica Sprague.com has the class for you. It's called Photo Editing and with video and assignments, sample photos to practice on, and great teaching techniques, Jessica Sprague will help you learn how to use that software quickly and efficiently. What's really, really cool is that once you have taken the class, you can go back to her site forever to refresh your memory or re-watch a video. Unlike a class that I took last year online. It was written on a blog and then she never would give us a full print out of the entire class for reference. Ever try going back to a blog to find out what you learned on day 6? Think about it...it would now be at the bottom of the blog...and what was it you wanted to find? I'm just saying. What a pain! Anyway, this class seems pretty cool. And it is 20% until Mother's Day.
Well there are a thousand things that I could post here...Target gift cards, iTunes gift cards, Starbucks gift cards. But what's the point?
My biggest Mother's Day Wish came true in 1998 when Mr. Zachary Daniel Bennett came into the world. I couldn't have this day without him. And for that I am forever grateful.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
I hate digital cameras
Yes, I really do.
I've been wondering lately who the wacko was that invented the darn things. I must ring him up and mention my pain and agony with his product. Obviously, he (I am sure it's a he) is laughing all the way to the bank as he has fully transformed an entire industry by making film cameras obsolete and pushing his invention to take its place. Oh, yeah, he is living large in a palace by the sea eating bon bons while the rest of us suffer.
Here's why I hate digital cameras. I am a right-brained creative type. I have no patience for technical stuff. No memory for learning the processes that have anything to do with computers. For heaven's sake, it's taken me three months of blogging to figure out how to do a link on a word and it was right in front of my eyes every time I logged on! Any type of thing where I need to have a system of organization is lost on me. I am visual. If I have seen it, I remember where it is if it is on my desk. It doesn't have a special name or a special folder, it has a location that is over on the right upper side of the desk or the left under that.
Herein lies the issue at hand. Digital photography was not made for right-brained creative types. Sure, we can take some amazing photos (and I do--really). Okay, let's be honest, we take thousands of amazing photos. In the olden days when there were no iphones or ipods or itunes, I would pull the cute little cartridge of film out of my camera after I had taken 24 pictures. I would take it to my local Target or put it in the mail and send to a place like Snapfish. I would know that in an hour or a day, my lovely photos would be printed and waiting for me. I could take them home, pour over them, slap them into my photo box for future scrapping and be so happy. No, they weren't always perfect and I missed some shots that I thought would be perfect, but there was only 24.
Did I mention that we take thousands of photos?
The number 24 is never spoken in these parts now unless Dan wants to watch the show and kicks me off of the good TV.
Now I have to do all the work. I only remember to upload when I turn the camera on and it is almost full. Of course, I am always somewhere very important and more pics need to be taken so I swap out for another memory card...which is almost full. When I return home, there is the choice of watching American Idol or uploading photos.
Hmmm...did I mention how great AI is? Should I do a link?! Okay, no.
Once I force myself in front of the computer, go to my photos, I start to scream. My filing system is not the way I want it and I can't find that particular picture that I took when Zach was 9 years old on vacation because everything is in weird files. I need to upload to Costo for prints, I need to burn CDs from my hard drive (yes, I do have two), I need to photoshop some pictures, I need to rename files...did I mention that I haven't uploaded the memory cards since after Christmas? Yeah. That, too.
I am so far behind that I do not want to sit down and begin work because it overwhelms me. Heck, I could care less about scrapbooking all of them--I am not one of those women--but I just crave a bit of organization in my photo life. Detail work is not my forte and makes me insane. And no, I do not have a Mac and I am sure that is the answer to all my problems. I have the books--Photo Freedom and have read Ali's blog and Cathy's blog and I know how others do it. But I cannot get these systems to work for me.
So that is why I hate digital cameras. Sure I feel like a professional with the amazing pictures I have. But I hate the rest of the work that comes along with that. No pain, no gain? Self-discipline? Do I have to?
It all makes me very grumpy.
I've been wondering lately who the wacko was that invented the darn things. I must ring him up and mention my pain and agony with his product. Obviously, he (I am sure it's a he) is laughing all the way to the bank as he has fully transformed an entire industry by making film cameras obsolete and pushing his invention to take its place. Oh, yeah, he is living large in a palace by the sea eating bon bons while the rest of us suffer.
Here's why I hate digital cameras. I am a right-brained creative type. I have no patience for technical stuff. No memory for learning the processes that have anything to do with computers. For heaven's sake, it's taken me three months of blogging to figure out how to do a link on a word and it was right in front of my eyes every time I logged on! Any type of thing where I need to have a system of organization is lost on me. I am visual. If I have seen it, I remember where it is if it is on my desk. It doesn't have a special name or a special folder, it has a location that is over on the right upper side of the desk or the left under that.
Herein lies the issue at hand. Digital photography was not made for right-brained creative types. Sure, we can take some amazing photos (and I do--really). Okay, let's be honest, we take thousands of amazing photos. In the olden days when there were no iphones or ipods or itunes, I would pull the cute little cartridge of film out of my camera after I had taken 24 pictures. I would take it to my local Target or put it in the mail and send to a place like Snapfish. I would know that in an hour or a day, my lovely photos would be printed and waiting for me. I could take them home, pour over them, slap them into my photo box for future scrapping and be so happy. No, they weren't always perfect and I missed some shots that I thought would be perfect, but there was only 24.
Did I mention that we take thousands of photos?
The number 24 is never spoken in these parts now unless Dan wants to watch the show and kicks me off of the good TV.
Now I have to do all the work. I only remember to upload when I turn the camera on and it is almost full. Of course, I am always somewhere very important and more pics need to be taken so I swap out for another memory card...which is almost full. When I return home, there is the choice of watching American Idol or uploading photos.
Hmmm...did I mention how great AI is? Should I do a link?! Okay, no.
Once I force myself in front of the computer, go to my photos, I start to scream. My filing system is not the way I want it and I can't find that particular picture that I took when Zach was 9 years old on vacation because everything is in weird files. I need to upload to Costo for prints, I need to burn CDs from my hard drive (yes, I do have two), I need to photoshop some pictures, I need to rename files...did I mention that I haven't uploaded the memory cards since after Christmas? Yeah. That, too.
I am so far behind that I do not want to sit down and begin work because it overwhelms me. Heck, I could care less about scrapbooking all of them--I am not one of those women--but I just crave a bit of organization in my photo life. Detail work is not my forte and makes me insane. And no, I do not have a Mac and I am sure that is the answer to all my problems. I have the books--Photo Freedom and have read Ali's blog and Cathy's blog and I know how others do it. But I cannot get these systems to work for me.
So that is why I hate digital cameras. Sure I feel like a professional with the amazing pictures I have. But I hate the rest of the work that comes along with that. No pain, no gain? Self-discipline? Do I have to?
It all makes me very grumpy.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Scared of the Dark
After torrential rain on Saturday, Sunday's bit of rain seemed tame by comparison. As the afternoon wore on, the day turned into a lovely evening complete with blue skies and nice temps. And then the power went out. For the second week in a row, the house became silent for no apparent reason and candles became our only light source. This time though, Dan became the hero and hooked up the generator since Consumer's Power seemed to be keeping the future moment of repair a secret. Many others had the same idea and the street soon became alive with the rattle and roar of gasoline-powered machines. Lights began popping on one by one.
Zach was back and forth to his friends house checking on progress and helping Dan set up our power source. I was surprised when he breathlessly decided to come into the living room and sit with me. Grabbing the blanket on the couch he reported that he was scared. I thought one of his friends might have said something to begin this line of thinking, but it wasn't that. He didn't know what brought the feelings on but wondered if I felt the same. No buddy, not this time. We have food and water, a generator that works, lights that blow away the dark and we are all safe. He then proceeded to ask a million questions about electricity and how it all works--Zach's typical way of processing. Thankfully, Dan came in then and helped fill in the gaps (Uh, there were many!).
We never could get to the source of his fear so we let him sleep in his sleeping bag in our room (next to Dad's side of the bed) to help him feel better. Of course, 30 minutes after he went to bed, the power came on again...
This time, I wasn't afraid.
But I do remember a time though when I was very afraid. In 2001, as days went by after September 11, I felt fear in the pit of my gut. I had a toddler who did not know why he couldn't watch Blue's Clues on TV since his parents were glued to CNN for more details of the attacks. I remember shopping at the grocery store for non-perishable items to store in the pantry and stocking up on water. I think of the many meals where I barely touched my food because I was sinking into a depression. Visions of having to escape--something, but what?--out to the fields behind our house left me terrified (I am visual to a fault). I carried happiness around the house in order to be calm in front of my baby. Fear? Yeah, it was there. Fear of the unknown certainly was causing it, and I was in a desperate search to gain back control of my little world.
I felt that fear again this morning as I listened to a Dr. explain swine flu and the perceived epidemic that we could have soon. But this time, many years after 9/11, I think I am a bit stronger. I fought back against that gnawing at the pit of my stomach as I listened to the radio and I do it as I type. I don't want to give in to it. I refuse to let fear run my life as it does in others. There are people close to me that consistently let fear overtake them and then pass that along to others. They live in such dread that fun and living life and celebrating get squashed in the "what ifs."
As I told Zach last night, God is in control of each situation in our lives. He knew the minute that the power would turn back on. He knows every detail of our lives. He simply asks that we trust him. Trust that he is involved deeply in our lives and that his presence will sustain us when we doubt. And when we tremble. And when control is out of our reach.
Please, God, give me that faith every day.
Zach was back and forth to his friends house checking on progress and helping Dan set up our power source. I was surprised when he breathlessly decided to come into the living room and sit with me. Grabbing the blanket on the couch he reported that he was scared. I thought one of his friends might have said something to begin this line of thinking, but it wasn't that. He didn't know what brought the feelings on but wondered if I felt the same. No buddy, not this time. We have food and water, a generator that works, lights that blow away the dark and we are all safe. He then proceeded to ask a million questions about electricity and how it all works--Zach's typical way of processing. Thankfully, Dan came in then and helped fill in the gaps (Uh, there were many!).
We never could get to the source of his fear so we let him sleep in his sleeping bag in our room (next to Dad's side of the bed) to help him feel better. Of course, 30 minutes after he went to bed, the power came on again...
This time, I wasn't afraid.
But I do remember a time though when I was very afraid. In 2001, as days went by after September 11, I felt fear in the pit of my gut. I had a toddler who did not know why he couldn't watch Blue's Clues on TV since his parents were glued to CNN for more details of the attacks. I remember shopping at the grocery store for non-perishable items to store in the pantry and stocking up on water. I think of the many meals where I barely touched my food because I was sinking into a depression. Visions of having to escape--something, but what?--out to the fields behind our house left me terrified (I am visual to a fault). I carried happiness around the house in order to be calm in front of my baby. Fear? Yeah, it was there. Fear of the unknown certainly was causing it, and I was in a desperate search to gain back control of my little world.
I felt that fear again this morning as I listened to a Dr. explain swine flu and the perceived epidemic that we could have soon. But this time, many years after 9/11, I think I am a bit stronger. I fought back against that gnawing at the pit of my stomach as I listened to the radio and I do it as I type. I don't want to give in to it. I refuse to let fear run my life as it does in others. There are people close to me that consistently let fear overtake them and then pass that along to others. They live in such dread that fun and living life and celebrating get squashed in the "what ifs."
As I told Zach last night, God is in control of each situation in our lives. He knew the minute that the power would turn back on. He knows every detail of our lives. He simply asks that we trust him. Trust that he is involved deeply in our lives and that his presence will sustain us when we doubt. And when we tremble. And when control is out of our reach.
Please, God, give me that faith every day.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Red Velvet Cake Hair
During this season's American Idol, a girl named Allison Iraheta (okay, just figured out how to do a hyperlink--very exciting) has moved all the way up to the Top Five. She's only 16 and had the funkiest pink/red hair that you have every seen. One of our local deejay's, Todd Chance, calls her "Red Velvet Cake Hair Girl." It makes me laugh.
But it also got me thinking about food, of course. And I decided that I had never eaten Red Velvet Cake before. What a travesty! But then our fabulous friend, Oprah, published a recipe for Red Hot Velvet Cupcakes with Cinnamon Buttercream in the February 2009 issue of the magazine. It's from a new cookbook called Baked and there is a Brooklyn pastry shop of the same name.
I had to try it. We are having friends over tomorrow night to play Guitar Hero World Tour (I am sure that will bring some stories!) and so in honor of Red Velvet Cake Hair Girl, I've been baking the cupcakes tonight.
It's been puzzling though as to why the recipe calls for cider vinegar! This is not an easy recipe to be sure, lots of separate bowls and special things to do. And oh my--so full of fat. Come on people, it uses buttermilk and shortening and butter...YUM. I will make the icing on Friday since I ran out of butter tonight. Yeah. Good for weight loss.
Anyway, I needed to know about the cider vinegar thing, so I googled it and this terrific article on the cake's history came up from the New York Times (I'm getting good at the hyperlinks!). I guess something about the combination of cocoa with the vinegar causes it to go red, then it is supplemented with red food coloring. My recipe called for 2T but I ran out, and so it only got half of that. Oh, well, I don't like to use red food coloring anyway. But the cakes are amazing!
A lovely little treat for a fun night.
But it also got me thinking about food, of course. And I decided that I had never eaten Red Velvet Cake before. What a travesty! But then our fabulous friend, Oprah, published a recipe for Red Hot Velvet Cupcakes with Cinnamon Buttercream in the February 2009 issue of the magazine. It's from a new cookbook called Baked and there is a Brooklyn pastry shop of the same name.
I had to try it. We are having friends over tomorrow night to play Guitar Hero World Tour (I am sure that will bring some stories!) and so in honor of Red Velvet Cake Hair Girl, I've been baking the cupcakes tonight.
It's been puzzling though as to why the recipe calls for cider vinegar! This is not an easy recipe to be sure, lots of separate bowls and special things to do. And oh my--so full of fat. Come on people, it uses buttermilk and shortening and butter...YUM. I will make the icing on Friday since I ran out of butter tonight. Yeah. Good for weight loss.
Anyway, I needed to know about the cider vinegar thing, so I googled it and this terrific article on the cake's history came up from the New York Times (I'm getting good at the hyperlinks!). I guess something about the combination of cocoa with the vinegar causes it to go red, then it is supplemented with red food coloring. My recipe called for 2T but I ran out, and so it only got half of that. Oh, well, I don't like to use red food coloring anyway. But the cakes are amazing!
A lovely little treat for a fun night.
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