self portrait in cookie form

 You know that "average American" they are always talking about? That's me. I know. It's crazy. I'm super famous. But don't worry, I haven't let it go to my head or anything. I still make my kids dinner and I only pretend that I'm incapable of cleaning bathrooms some of the time. Okay, most of the time. But, I swear my husband actually really likes cleaning bathrooms. He doesn't hate it at all. I know. I'm not sure I believe him either. But MAYBE he's just so psyched out of his mind to be married to someone so incredibly average as me that he gets confused sometimes and thinks that we are talking about rock climbing instead of cleaning. There is no way to be sure, really. I am. Average beyond belief.

Average height - 5 feet 4 inches.   CHECK.
Average weight  for my incredibly average height  --- umm, we'll come back to this one.
Average time on phone calls in a day - .09 hours -- CHECK. (honestly though -- Who PAYS for these studies?!)
Average number of vehicles owned - 2 -- CHECK.  (But don't even think about stealing one of them. They are both Korean and one of them looks like a cable repair van. And they both have cracker crumbs mushed into the seat. Seriously. I'm not joking. Don't try to steal one. But if you do...and don't tell my husband I said this...go for the little one.)
Average number of income earners - 1.3 -- CHECK. (I'm counting all that spare change I find in the gutter as my 0.3 contribution. Hey -- it all adds up, right?)
Average number of children - 2.3 -- CHECK. (Except that right now, it's a little closer to 2.5)

What I am trying to say here is that I look like this:

Except that if you saw me in real life, you probably wouldn't want to eat me. Because that would be super weird. And I don't actually own a shirt that looks like this. But some day I might. And I do wear brown boots with black pants. Someone with any amount of fashion sense is going to have to save me some day.

I think this is actually the first cutter I ever made. You know, back when I was in my twenties...and still living in America.

xbox controller cake

Hey guys. I have an idea. Let's all pretend that my card reader DIDN'T stop working. And that I didn't have to resort to my less-than-favorite camera. And let's pretend that we all LOVE these pictures. Sound good?

Yeah, it's not really working for me either. Maybe if I get in real, real close and kind of blur things... And if you squint a little and tilt your head.... anything? No? That's okay. I know a guy who knows a guy who might know of a store in Korea that sells what I need.

I have a little confession. I have never actually seen one of these game controllers in real life. Is that okay to say out loud? (Game people -- don't hate me. I did grow up with an Atari, so that makes me kind of cool again, right? ) In case you are like me...this is an xbox controller. But not the black kind. The other kind. You know...the white kind.

Happy Playground Day

Once upon a time there was a little boy and his little sister. And they lived in a town with NO swing set. And you can't tell, but this made them sad. Real, real sad.

And they dreamed and dreamed of a playground that would have a swing set and a slide and maybe some kind of yellow animal springy thing.

And then one day it fell magically out of the sky and the little boy and the little girl were SUPER happy. 
(only that's not exactly true. A ton of people did a ton of work to make it happen.)

And all the kids in town came to play at the brand new playground. And they were so happy they never wanted to leave even though there must have been some weird thing in the water that made them all look exactly the same even though they weren't even related. Except, you know, the little boy and his little sister. They were, in fact, related.

Warrant Officer Cake

I'm probably only going to say this once. (today)

My GOODNESS -- look how cool this cake is!

And I can say that, even though I made it, because its all buttercream. (Except the little congratulations banner at the bottom...but let's not be so picky, shall we?) And buttercream and I aren't exactly best-friends-forever-sleep-over-at-each-others'-houses-on-the-weekend type of friends. We are more like people-that- have-a-mutual-friend-and-we-would-only-be-friends-with-each-other-if-that-mutual-friend-was-dying-and-needed-us-desperately-to-team-up-and-steal-the-top-secret-antidote-to-stay-alive kind of friends. So, you know, this cake is basically never going to happen again.

Oh, and in case you are wondering...this is a giant replica of a warrant officer insignia in the US army. And in case you are still wondering...insignia means badge or distinguishing mark. And in case that didn't clear things up either... "The Army Warrant Officer is an adaptive technical expert, combat leader, trainer, and advisor."

these United States

In case you are not from the United States and are wondering about this whole "Independence Day" thing...let me explain it real quick. Way back around a jillion years ago in 1776 some people were living in North America from Britain. And Britain was being all mean to them, making them mow their lawns and not even giving them popsicles when it was hot outside. And the people in North America were living in wood houses and the people in Britain had big old palaces and swimming pools and stuff, so they could certainly have spared a popsicle or two. Anyway...the "Colonials" (just a big word meaning poor people that live in wood houses and don't get to make their own rules) decided they didn't want to play that game anymore. So they told everyone in Britain that they quit. And the people in Britain said "Oh, no you don't." And the Colonials said, "Oh, yes we do." And then there were fireworks and hot dogs and a watermelon seed spitting contest. 

Happy Birthday USA!

PS: If you have ever lived in, or visited, or thought about the United States or even know where it is on a map -- you should probably just take this day to eat watermelon and chips and popsicles and maybe go swimming if you can fit it in.

Parade of Cookies

Let's talk about parades, shall we? When I was growing up, parades were a BIG DEAL. Like, a really big deal where everyone in the neighborhood goes and the streets next to the parade route turn into parking lots and grandpa type people bring their lounge chairs and spend the day on the curb. (And teenager type people drop off a sofa the night before and "forget" to arrange to have it picked up after the parade.)

The parades had floats. You know, big things decorated in flowers and balloons and crepe paper and you have no idea how they are propelling themselves down the road except for an occasional glimpse at a tire when part of the shiny flaps gets caught on the hub cap for a second. They had horses and marching bands and people with glitter all over them AND CANDY. Lots of candy.

I was so excited when my son was finally old enough to take to a parade. (Because its totally weird when a 24 year old is trying to get the candy before some 6 year old scoops it up, but its okay if you're doing it for your own kid, you know?) It was a total let down though. This so-called "parade" consisted of people riding around in cars while someone walked down the street next to them handing out flyers that said, "Eat at Joe's." I didn't even get a coupon! And definitely no candy. I felt like I had to take my son out for ice cream afterwards just to make up for the fact that I took him to the parade in the first place.

You know what my favorite parade of the year was? The Health Days Parade. That parade always had the BEST candy. We would take turns staking out the "good spot" with my cousins. With a parade that had to work as a team if you were going to survive. We had this whole strategy to edge people out of our "candy zone." And they always threw out frisbees and footballs and ping pong balls with numbers on them too. And then you traded the ping pong balls in for big prizes at the fair behind the parade. And my favorite part of all was that a parade for HEALTH Days had so much candy. Even as a child I appreciated irony. And candy. Lots of candy.