I'm really a 12 year old girl.

I've been busy this weekend writing fan/fic about my soon to be occurring love affair with Robert Pattinson. This came out of my purchase of the new Vanity Fair, the cover of which he graces and O. MY. GOD. If I wasn't on Team Edward before, I am now. My friend Tina and I were talking about the various bad things we would like to do to him. She pointed out that we were not only competing with, well, most of the female population of the free world in a certain age bracket but were significantly older than most of his fan base. Whatever. I have my leopard print dress and cigarette holder all picked out. Come to mama.

Because lookit:

I mean, right? If I were in junior high, you can bet that photo would be gracing the interior of my locker and perhaps even the inside of my Trapper Keeper next to my algebra notes.

Tina bought all of the books after having seen New Moon last week. They arrived on Wednesday and I believe she tied a salt lick around each of her sons necks so that they wouldn't disturb her for silly things like FOOD and WATER - GOD! - while she dove in. She texted later to inform me that along with the books, Amazon had seen fit to tuck in a full sized poster of R.P. as well. Her husband is often away on business and I told her she ought to install the poster on the ceiling over her bed as a distraction. Because I'm brilliant. And am looking out for her needs.

Did everyone get through Thanksgiving in one piece? I did! I didn't even have to employ the Official Eating Pants, so ironclad was my resolve not to overeat this year. Normally, we all end the meal by clawing at our throats and lurching into the living room, hoping to find a flat surface on which to lie down and stretch out our stomachs. This year we all somehow contained ourselves, perhaps because we had extra guests and didn't want them to forever associate us with gluttony. Normally, I loudly proclaim my thankfulness for the elastic waistband, but my jeans didn't have to work very hard to stay shut and I didn't have the normal nightmares brought on by indigestion. Moderation for the win!

So I hope everyone is sliding easily into the holidays. I went with my family this evening to the Festival of Lights which is a parade in held annually in downtown Los Altos to ring in the Christmas Season. I hadn't done this in years and was cracking up with my sister as the floats went by - many of them were the same ones that we waved at as they drove down Main Street in our youth only a wee bit worse for wear. But, there is something nice about that kind of continuity. I don't easily embrace change and love tradition and so it was fun to be there with my nieces and nephew, watching my high school marching band go by and seeing Frosty the Snowman drive his float somewhat erratically down the street - I think he'd hit the bottle first.

Regardless, here's to a happy December to everyone, no matter what or how you celebrate. I, for one, will be pulling out my fake trees and Christmas music this week in order to get into the holiday spirit. It takes some doing for me since I'm notoriously anti-Yuletide, but this year! I'm going to be cheerful! Dammit! Perhaps I need a poster of R.P. above my bed to get me in the mood...

I carry you in my heart

You'll have to read this through a thick gauze of forgiveness as I took an Ambien about an hour ago and am really only half aware as to what I'm writing. Also, I think I just bought a set of steak knives and a vibrator. Hard to say as I temporarily fell asleep and then came to on a website that my mother would qualify as unladylike. I'll see what shows up in the mail over the next week...

...I've done this a few times before. Taken a sleeping aid and then woken up in the morning with my inbox filled with shipping notifications for things I bought while under the influence of my medication. When a faux fur vest showed up that gave off the impression that I had taken up wearing road kill as fashion, I knew I had to limit my access to the outside world once an Ambien has taken a swim down my gullet. So this foray, here, is somewhat verboten. Normally, I put myself straight to bed and read until my lids need to be propped up. However, I'm feeling frisky this evening.

Well, not frisky so much as just thoughtful. I'm home from yet another trip down south. This time it was for my nieces wedding and from Wednesday evening to Saturday night, I think I only sat down once, and that was to watch Heidi and Scott say "I do" to one another. It was an amazing ceremony. I've been having a hard time putting into words my feelings on how this weekend, this wedding, went. I spent much of it in tears, for reasons I'll explain later, but more than anything, I was just in awe. In awe of the strength of the love that they have for one another. In awe of how much their relationship has touched those around them. In awe of how peace just seems to surround Heidi and Scott and how their love for one another extends so beautifully out towards the people that they care for in their lives. As individuals they are each unique and people that you want to know. As a couple...well, it's inspiring.

I think everyone who walks down the aisle with the person they intend to spend the rest of their life with has just as much of a chance as anyone else of making it the distance. But then there is this little subsection of people. This tiny percentage who, before they even take their vows, seem to have a more mature and wizened understanding of what marriage is and how theirs will proceed. They grip each others hands tightly and you know that they are one before they ever proclaim that before their friends and families. They are the marriages that you look up to even though you might be married already and have several years on the newlyweds. And this is how I feel about Scott and Heidi. That they found each other amidst the quagmire of this life and created their own little oasis and have, in this imperfect world, found a tiny bit of perfection in their love for one another.

It was one the most beautiful things I have ever seen.

A shameless plug for BabycakesNYC.

So it turns out that I might have a minor case of OCD. It so happens that I will become totally focused on one thing and become unable to do anything else...like make my bed, or work out, or apply my eyebrows in the morning. The last couple of days I have been so totally immersed in gluten free/vegan baking that the rest of my life has taken a rather disastrous turn. Just this morning I left the house and realized that I had been so involved in thinking about the double chocolate chips cookies I was going to make later that I had neglected to brush my teeth OR my hair. Thank heavens I keep a full bathroom kit at work.

This preoccupation is significant for two reasons. One, since I've been stripped of all wheat and dairy privileges, I've been not unlike the street urchin who presses his filthy face up against the glass, looking longingly in at the family tableau within that he will never be a part of. I pass bakeries with a sigh, look on as people eat ice cream and frozen yogurt with the wounded air of a child who has been denied her favorite toy. And once in a while I transgress, eating a cupcake or a cookie and then spend a day or two on the floor writing in such intestinal agony that I'll spare you the details of what transpires only to say that God was kind when He bestowed us with air freshener.

The second reason is that I've always eschewed baking. I love to cook, primarily because there are few rules, and even those can be bent. The rigors of baking have always offended me. I'm supposed to be the bossiest thing in the kitchen, not this book that is telling me only to use TWO TABLESPOONS of vanilla. What if I don't want to? This attitude resulted in flat cookies and bread that my mother used for a door stop for years. My sisters were both accomplished bakers and so I let them, lending a hand when the bowl needed to be licked and then disappearing conveniently until things actually came out of the oven.

Then, last week, I happened upon a cookbook that I think I might marry. I've been stuck to it since Saturday and SWEET HOLY MOSES! The things that are coming out of my kitchen! Not to mention the fact that I've been making friends with things, like, measuring cups! and spelt flour! and coconut oil! And now my trousers are tight, but I've been able to enjoy a chocolate chip cookie for the first time in my adult life without the agonizing stomach cramps that usually followed consumption. The extra time on the treadmill is well worth it considering a whole culinary world is opening up to me that had been padlocked and duct taped shut with the word "VERBOTEN" spray-painted across the front in red, graffiti type letters.

So this is where I have been. And I promise, next time you see me, I'll bestow you with the fruits of my labor. You'll never miss the butter or flour, I promise. If you are a fellow suffer'er, I can recommend this book/bakery with the highest of accolades. Happy baking!

http://www.babycakesnyc.com/