Because I had a cake emergency….

The real me now may not be thin, but she’s got the cake, and, if she likes, can eat it, too. ~~Arabella Weir

We’re always joking in an online forum that I’m a member of that we’re going to get a commune one day. We’ll all live right there together happily ever after, and between all the skills we all possess, we probably won’t ever want for anything.  We have quilters, chefs, bakers, writers, comedians, mammas, kids, husbands, organizers, farmers, and cheerleaders. We have it all!

And if there were anyone I was going to live in a commune with, it’s this group of women. They’re amazing and talented and have taught me that women can, indeed, be friends.

Continue reading “Because I had a cake emergency….”

Come on Baby, Light My Fire…. Or Why Melle Also Did Not Learn to Cook, Either…. Part Two

True story #1.

Flint Lighter
Flint. Yeah. Whatevs.

Supposedly, you squeeze the handle together with some downward pressure and it scrapes something across something else and the flint and it makes a spark and you do all this while holding it near the flowing natural gas to which the Bunsen burner has been attached…. and wah-lah! You have fire. Yeah. Mmhmm. Sure.

When I was in AP Chemistry as a Junior in High School, I was physically incapable of lighting my own Bunsen burner. As a result, I and my lab partner, would hold our Bunsen burners microphone style and sing the Doors song to Eric Whittenburg. Who I had a GINORMOUS crush on. Eric Whittenburg would not know this because the only way I was emotionally capable of expressing this interest in him was by yanking his hairs out one by one from my seat behind him. And playing with his bottom with my feet by tucking them into his chair. If you are friends with Eric Whittenburg, and he has told you stories of this crazy irritating hair plucking girl from Montgomery, AL in the early 90’s…  well… *waves*
Continue reading “Come on Baby, Light My Fire…. Or Why Melle Also Did Not Learn to Cook, Either…. Part Two”