Therapy

Who needs therapy, I ask dryly, I can pound away my anger on the fondant. And I often do. Perhaps not always anger though. Frustration mostly. Must learn to let go....., do not try to control the two year old......, let her be two...... Soon enough she'll want to borrow the car keys, be out past midnight, and who knows what else. Good lord, where's my fondant now.

Let's think about happy things for a bit. Mmmmm. Cake. It's finally hot round these parts, so I thought, how better to celebrate than to crank up the oven and do some baking? Good idea! Inevitably it needs to be done though. Good friends Kate and Adam are taking the plunge into matrimony this Sunday and their cake is up next. I'm suffering from a bit of "decorators" block, I'm not entirely happy with the image in my head. Trouble with these cakes (I've had them before) is my brilliant idea for the cake will come within 24 hours of the wedding. Days ahead will be spent grumbling along, torting, icing, rolling. As the cake comes together, suddenly a bolt of inspiration hits. Then I run like mad to get it out of my head and into the form of cake. Off to Michaels! Off to the florist! Jeff, we're pulling an all nighter! Sounds like fun, eh? Perhaps some light meditative yoga will help. Be one with the cake, love the cake, learn to let go, don't fight what it wants to become. Sigh, I think the heat is getting to me, or maybe you too see the striking similarity to the two year old?