Lemon Blueberry Gooey Butter Cake
Wow, anyone else feel that? That 180-degree instant shift in mood? Kristen’s post about February blues resonated with me. February is so hard, but I also have the more generalized winter blues. I can feel the doom set in as soon as the blue skies change to gray and the rain, wind, and ice roll in. I can hardly enjoy fall anymore just because I know winter is on its way, and with it depression and lack of motivation. Ugh.
But this morning!!
Hot Blueberry Cake with Vanilla Ice Cream
I take hundreds of photos. I don’t think a day passes when I don’t take one or two. This weekend I’ve snapped pictures of my favorite shrimp tacos, my pretty Chipotle salad, Mike’s eyes looking particularly blue, Byrd sleeping with her favorite toy. The other night I was lying in bed thinking about what creates this urge in me and I settled on this: I think we take pictures because we’re afraid of dying.
We don’t think of it like that while we’re standing in front of Cinderella’s castle and squishing a little tighter shoulder to shoulder to fit in the frame. We don’t think, “I’m terrified. Let’s take a few more snaps.” It’s more of a current running through our subconscious: I have to capture this moment. I have to stop the clock for a second. I have to preserve this feeling, this memory. I have to hold on to it somehow.
Thanks to Kellogg’s for sponsoring this post.
Salmon Tzatziki Canapés
Remember that time I was Ina Garten’s BFF? Well, the time I was invited to her house for a cookie swap, anyway. It was basically the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me. And the one thing I wanted to ask her was how she manages to host a million dinners and cocktail parties and breakfasts without breaking a sweat, all in a gorgeous white blouse without so much as a hair out of place. Right?! She’s magical.
Giant Skillet Lemon Sugar Cookie
Nothing makes me more hopeful and more determined (and in some ways, more frustrated) than listening to my 13- and 14-year-old students put on their heavy armor at such a young age. The other day I was grading tests with a few girls in my room during lunch. They had a Taylor Swift song playing in the background and we were chatting about the music video when one of them said wistfully, “She’s so pretty.”
I walk a careful line at this juncture. Even after years of reading, thinking, learning, feeling, it’s still a tightrope.
Brownie Blackout Mousse Cake
I wrote this post as part of the Plugrá Butter Brigade. Thanks, Plugrá, for sponsoring this chocolatey amazingness and for making my favorite butter!
Let’s talk COFFEE. I need advice.
To preface, I’m new at this whole coffee thing. I started drinking coffee in May because I was in Europe with a group of 9th graders and absolutely exhausted (I know, poor me! Gallivanting around Italy with all expenses paid! Tiny violin.) It also just seemed to be the European thing to do, right? To sip a cup of strong espresso alongside my breakfast of hard boiled eggs and cheese. And I’m nothing if not très European (just ask the waiter who tried his hardest not to laugh at my French-with-a-Southern-accent.)
Anyhow, I’m hooked now. But I’m also clueless.
