You Never Know Until You Bake

From Friday to Sunday, I was reckoning with a fever, which would explain my lack of writing.

On Sunday, however, I did launch project 52 cakes.

After a slight delay, I'm excited to begin this endeavor.

The first cake was made for our Downtown Abbey Season 2 party. Supplementing my cake in the spread of desserts was Kevin's pomegranate cheesecake along with Stephanie's blackberry cobbler. The display was completed with a framed picture of the Queen, courtesy of Kevin the loyalist (Ha! Forgive me, Kev).

In an epiphany, I realized that 52 Cakes is a fruitful project. It bears cake (YES!), a desire to grow in the useful skill of baking, a creative display in photos, and experiences in community worth writing down. Yes, far more fruitful than I ever thought when I had the idea. Had I never started, I wouldn't know.

Alliterated Meals

Breakfast: Buttered bagel
Lunch: Leftover lasagna
Dinner: (Delicious!) dumplings

I seriously did not plan such a nerdy compilation.

Should have thought to take instagrams. Oh well.

And tomorrow is the day... The first of 52 cakes!

A Writer & A Baker

There's always the temptation to think: a million people write and cake-baking is on the rise, thanks to the Ace and the Boss. Why should I bother with this blog or my 52 Cakes project?

But then I'm reminded: if I don't write the thoughts in my head, who will? And if I don't make cakes, the beautiful logo designed by my husband goes to waste. And we won't have cake. What a sad way to live.

So I will write, I will bake, I will share it all with you.

A Phrase Worth Pondering

Consider your ways.

Resolutions

I made them. For the first time in 26 years, I believe. Photo proof is on the fb. I'll type them up when we join civilization and get Internet at the house on Friday.

A Year of Reckoning

The title came to me when I was sitting in a conference with more than a thousand college students, two days before the year's end. I heard the keynote speaker say, "We are built to deal with the hardship of mission." A ship is built for the open sea, a pen for the pages... and we, to reckon. I wasn't exactly sure what I meant when I wrote the words, but this definition shaped my idea into a clearer form:

The calculation of a ship's position from the record of the courses steered and distances sailed as shown by compass and log. Thank you, Webster.

I don't want to saunter through life with eyes half-closed and let the days slip away like sand through the fingers. I want to reckon with the calm the wind, the storm, whatever the day brings. The choices made, the steps taken, the miles traveled...

Here's to a year of dedicated wrestling and writing. Keep me accountable.

September 11

A few days after I wrote this in my journal, I found out the last line was true for a woman in Ohio.

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I remember that day. It was my sophomore year, and I was in gym class. We were in the belly of the school filled with 2,000 students, so we didn't hear the announcement instructing teachers to turn on their televisions. I remember walking down the halls to Algebra thinking it was strangley quiet and still to be changing classes. When I came through the door of my classroom, no one was mingling about like usual. Everyone was in their desk, eyes glued to the TV at the front left corner of the room. My teacher was standing beside her closed textbook on the lecturn with one hand lightly cupping her chin and the other tucked under the crook of her elbow. I stayed along the wall while I made my way to my desk in the back row, instead of walking in front of everyone.

"What's happening?" I asked my friend beside me as I slid my bookbag straps off my shoulders and plopped in my seat. I saw the burning buildings and though we were watching a movie.

"A plane just hit the World Trade Center," my friend told me. "They think it's a terrorist attack."

I don't think we had school the rest of the day. We went to classes, but the TVs stayed on. All afterschool activities were canceled; a lot of parents came early to pick up their kids.

I wonder if our teachers felt like our guardians that day. I wonder if in our youth we truly understood that moment in history - not the "why" or the "how: - but simply that this moment would change us as a generation and a country.

I think we did. Some of us would fight in the war that followed, some of us would become embittered during the ten years of that war...

Some of us found God and wouldn't have otherwise.