I scored a library gig. The hours leave something to be desired. The staff's music selection is what I would characterize as Indian Pop. My stomach is very impressionable. Tonight, I got intense cravings for chicken tikka masala or palak paneer or a curry. India Palace isn't open at this hour, so I came home and ate a frozen vegan samosa. Not bad.
It's a good thing I'm chipping away at my frozen dinners, too. I need all the freezer space I can get right now. You see, I started making wedding cake a few days ago, and I'm storing cake layers in the freezer. It is countdown time to the wedding. I'm the only one with cold feet. I did my strategic planning for the wedding cake. I made a detailed schedule for mixing, baking, whipping up the frosting, assembling, and decorating the cake, plus lists of the materials I need, and risk assessment for a list of mortifying fears: the cake will collapse, the frosting will melt, and the blue color of the buttercream will not be uniform. It's all in a sexy Google doc à la the one I also created to house all the wedding plans. It didn't take long to see that I was the only one editing that thing. I shouted, "I need e-mail addresses listed for all the vendors!" to no avail. Guess we don't have to ask which sister is getting married and which one is making long-term plans with her spreadsheets.
We had an engagement party/cake tasting throwdown contest two months ago to choose the perfect cake for Porter and Katie's wedding. The winner in a close race was the family favorite Bobby Flay Chocolate Blackout Cake. Their wedding cake will have a vanilla bean buttercream frosting tinted blue and white "pearls" piped around the base of each tier.
I'll be cleaning out the freezer and fridge, so be wary if I offer to feed you. Might want to check the expiration dates on that yogurt. My dress for Katie's wedding is hanging in the living room as a constant reminder that I'm not supposed to be eating anything that has more calories than ice chips do. I'm trying to lose that lingering baby weight. Not the weight from a pregnancy, just baby fat I've been hanging onto for about twenty-five years.