Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

Dear Rolled Fondant,

We've known each other for years. While I've always been a little intimidated by you, I can't deny your beauty. There's nothing quite like the look of a fondant covered cake and you know it. You never tried to make things easier on me, getting crusty after just a little inattention. I really worked on our relationship. I went to classes. I practiced at home. I attempted cakes I never thought I'd make. And slowly, slowly...things got better. I thought I was happy. But Fondant, I just couldn't get past one major issue: you are yucky. Most people will admire your good looks but then peel you right off when it comes time to eat the cake. And there goes all that money and effort, right into the trash. There had to be a better way.

And I found it. Marshmallow Fondant whispered in my ear, flirting with me, but could I really ignore all the agony I went through with you, with the history we had together? The answer was a resounding "yes." Yes, I could. Not only was Marshmallow Fondant so much easier on my wallet, but he was putty in my hands, bending to my will almost gleefully. And he was a smooth one. Just like you. But he's sweet. You were never that way to me, Rolled Fondant, and frankly, I deserve better.

So farewell, my expensive, temperamental, icky friend. I am so much happier now.

Hasta la vista, baby,

Jessica G.

(Wanna see Marshmallow Fondant in action? Go check out my cake blog!)

His Response

Hey, so I'm finally not dying any more! Hooray!

Meanwhile back at the ranch...

Remember that post about how I once met Vanilla Ice? And how I broke his heart and inspired him to go into rap music? Or maybe not that last part; I've been taking a lot of medication lately. Did you happen to read the comments? No? Well, go read them now.

Seriously.

I'll wait.



Back already? Did you see it? Did you see the comment from Mr. Ice's legal representative? Sweet, huh? I totally swooned when I saw it. I might also have squealed. Repeatedly. And then I subjected everyone I came in contact with to my tale of fame (along with all the germs I was coughing all over them).

Then, this arrives in my inbox:


You may officially envy me.

I wonder if he'll invite me on stage the next time he's in town, now that we're BFFs. . .

Do-It-Yourself Valentine's Day

While I worked hard at not dying this week, the impending holiday snuck up on me! It's a very good thing that I obsess over Valentine's Day and already have supplies and ideas. So no hand-cut heart-shaped pepperoni or pink pancake breakfast but there was plenty of love. This year was simplified. And you can be sure that next year, I will pull out all the stops (provided I am able to breathe.)

Since my family insists on pizza every year, I stuck with it. It's my own fault, really. If my homemade pizza wasn't so good, it wouldn't be like this. However, since I was barely able to breathe without a coughing fit, I set out the balls of dough, sauce, and toppings.


This is Boo making her pizza (I learned the individual foil sheets tip from a toddler cooking class years ago - and names were written with a permanent marker because once they're baked, pizzas don't look the same). There were some adorable heart pizzas...except for one. Someone - and I won't say who but his initials are The Man - went for a normal circle. Geesh.

Along with pizza, we had fruit salad, chips (not heart-shaped, sorry), jell-o, and special drinks.

I really need to take a class on food photography. I take boring pictures. The jell-o was two different sizes and flavors: cherry (a nice deep red) and watermelon (soft pink). This year, the ice cubes in the drinks were made with Ruby Pomegranate juice, which was a lovely shade of pink and made the Sprite taste fabulous. It was my favorite part.

Dessert was also hands-on. I found little heart-shaped cupcake liners, so I baked our favorite chocolate cake. After dinner, I set out bowls of pink and chocolate frosting, along with decorator bags of the same frosting (HINT: When letting kids use your decorator bags, use a twisty-tie on the end, or be prepared to clean up huge drops of frosting that gets squeezed out). There were plenty of candies and sprinkles.


Lots of fun! The Boy was particularly pleased with his creation.

P.S.
I'm still thinking about hosting a swap. I thought we'd do a package consisting of things in your swap partner's favorite color. What do you think?


P.P.S
Happy 3rd Birthday to my Blog! Oh, they grow up so fast...

Getting in my Swap fix

Remember my post about swaps? Mamarazzi must have been bloggically in tune with me because looky:

A Favorite Things Swap! Head on over to Dandelion Wishes to check out the rules and guidelines! I'm already thinking of what I'm gonna out in my box...pizza seasoning, chocolates, something sparkly...

And I thinking about joining another one. It's an addiction, I tell ya!

Claim to Fame...or not

I've been dying this past week. No, seriously. I have pneumonia. I also have three small children and a husband who require regular feedings, so I'm not getting much rest. And when I do lay down, all I do is cough.

And now I'll get to my point.

I've met only one famous person in my life (unless you count General Authorities, but that's another post). When I met this person, he had yet to become famous but it was still an interesting meeting. It took place one afternoon when I was in junior high. At that time, I was a cheerleader (please keep your burst of laughter to a minimum). One of my friends had her older brother come pick her up after school in his dumpy little truck and I'd hang out with her, waiting for my mom to come. So there I am, leaning on a truck, wearing my little cheerleader outfit, talking to my friend when her brother's friend who was sitting in the back of the truck decides to join our conversation. His name? Robert Van Winkle. He went to the local high school, so there was that "older guy" thing and he was cute. And he was a musician. Maybe you've heard of him? His stage name was/is Vanilla Ice.

Try not to swoon, ladies. And please don't let the jealousy and envy you must be experiencing ruin our bloggy friendship.

So why am I confessing all this? Well, I hadn't blogged in a couple days and was looking for something blog-worthy. It could also be because I just sent Mr. Ice a friend request on Facebook.

I'm chalking this one up to all the medication I'm taking.

(I'll let you know if I get a response...)

Dating Advice from the Boy

I love Sunday evenings. They are normally very relaxed. I make a special effort for dinner and there's always a good dessert. And the Aunts come over.

Aunt Denise showers the kids with attention, loans me books, or we have a nice adult conversation after bedtime (usually the only one I get for the week). The Co-ed uses our laundry room, brings her adorable roommates, and lets me question her to the last detail on her dating life. It's so nice!

The Co-ed is seeing a new guy. New Guy seems to be quite taken with the Co-ed (and really, how could he not be?) but it's causing the Co-ed to wonder just what is going on. So over big bowls of baked potato soup, we were discussing the possibilities for New Guy. The Co-ed expressed her doubts on what to do next.

Ever the attentive nephew, the Boy piped up with some priceless dating advice for his beloved aunt: "Aunt Co-ed, make sure you don't throw two bombs at the same time, okay?"

If you don't know the Boy, then you don't understand how his entire world revolves around the Lego Star Wars/Batman/Indiana Jones games on the Wii. He plays them as much as I'll allow (and given the fact that I've been nearly dead for two weeks, that's A LOT). In the games, characters throw bombs. Throwing two bombs slows you down, so you can't escape the eruption of the first bomb by the time you've thrown the second, causing your character to break into an assortment of Lego pieces. So...don't throw two bombs.

But in the world of BYU dating, there are plenty of ways to throw two bombs at the same time, don't you think? For instance, you could declare your undying love for your new guy/girl after one date, only to immediately start dating his/her roommate. Or perhaps talking about marriage just after you've told your romantic prospect that you intend to spend the summer in Tibet, learning to be a sherpa. That's definitely two bombs. Or, if you're a guy, loudly and vehemently proclaim that a woman's place is in the home, attending to her husband's every whim, and then propose marriage. One for the ladies: stalking the guy you went on one date with only to never hear from again, then bursting into tears and demanding to know why he doesn't love you.

I hope the Co-ed and New Guy heed the Boy's sage advice.