Mini Dark Chocolate Cupcakes with Peppermint Cream Cheese Frosting

'Tis Christmastime around the world, and in Madison's kitchen. For a family get-together tonight, I made some yummy cupcakes.

To keep this simple this holiday season, and in the interest of time, I used a dark chocolate cake mix, following the directions for ingredients, temperature, and time in the oven.

But of course, I tend to make one piece of the cupcake more flavorful than the other. In this case, it was the frosting.

Ingredients:

1 teaspoon peppermint flavoring

1/2 cup butter

8 ounces cream cheese

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

4 cups powdered sugar

2 tablespoons heavy whipping cream

Candy canes, crushed

Beat butter until smooth. Add cream cheese and blend until fully combined and smooth, about 30 seconds.

Add vanilla extract, peppermint flavoring, and powdered sugar and combine on. Increase to medium and beat until  fluffy.

Then slowly add the heavy cream. Beat until fluffy. Then add some red food coloring, but do so slowly and carefully. I wanted a candy cane design. As you can see, it didn't quite turn out for me. That happens a little too frequently for my taste.

Happy holidays!

Easy Comforting

The world is full of people. We're everywhere. We all can be relatively generalized and there's much we all have in common. It's hard to believe how generic we are, because there exist people who light up the world. I may be a physicist, but I believe it's these people who keep the world turning.

Just over a week ago, the world lost one of these people. It's a little darker and a little emptier now, with one of the brightest pieces missing. I knew her originally as my third grade teacher, but she inspired and touched so many people. I attended her funeral on Wednesday and it was unbelievable to listen to the stories. It really is true, you can't have known her without saying "Sue Bowers touched my life" or "she inspired me". There was an opportunity during the service to share a story about her, but through my tears, I was unable to get up; now, I'd like to take some time to share.

Mrs. Bowers loved teaching; you could see it in the way she talked, the way she moved. That first day, the room was filled with an electric energy. It was obvious teaching was her passion. She made every one of us feel like we were capable of everything we dreamed. We might have been one of the most difficult classes shed had, though, as we didn't understand the concept of being quiet. 

That year, I lost my grandpa right at the start of spring break. When school started back up, everything was over and I had to go back. I made it a few days without anything more than lethargy and sadness. But one day, probably three days later, I broke down sobbing in the middle of class. I've never been much of a crier and I've always been very private about my crying, but I couldn't take it anymore. Everyone else was totally normal, and it just wasn't fair.

Mrs. Bowers didn't make a fuss about it, she just quietly directed everyone to the worksheet and came over and talked with me. She led me out to the hallway after a few minutes and just sat with me. Afternoon recess came and went, and she let me be. I'll never forget that, because she knew what to do. She didn't have any words of comfort, just reassurance that I was loved. 

You'd think that was the end, that after third grade I rarely saw her and that moment with her would be it. But it wasn't. She was one of those women I would see periodically throughout my school career back home. Sometimes just at the grocery store or at the park, never when I expected. She was at the VFW when I gave a speech about heroes; I hadn't read it in front of my mother yet, and I said she was my hero in it, and of course she cried, but I didn't expect to cry. Well, I did. And Mrs. Bowers hugged me and congratulated me on my speaking abilities (I was a very cripplingly shy third grader, I wouldn't even raise my hand to ask a question). I received a letter from her a few days later and it meant so much to me.

I invited her to my high school graduation in person, as I tried to do with all of my teachers, and I sat and talked with her for an hour. I didn't realize how much I had to say until I said it. She was blown away by all of the things I want to do in life, and it's hard to explain how much she believed in me, because I could just tell.

When she came to my party, I could see how proud she was of me. I didn't know what to say, and I still wouldn't, if I had the chance. But I'll always cherish the card she gave me, and the copy of You Are Special by Max Lucado. I took the photo album she gave me to college, and it holds all of my important memories. These things came with me to Michigan before I knew she was sick, but now I am so glad to have them.

It's selfish of me, I know, but I'm going to miss the opportunity to grow closer to her and to share with her all of the things I'm going to do because she was just an inspiration and beautiful support. 

"Easy comforting isn't comforting." The only reason I know these words to be so true is because John Green knew a wonderful girl who died of cancer, a girl who would have been an amazing woman much like Mrs. Bowers. And it's true; I didn't know what to say to her husband at her funeral. In fact, I cried so much more during the service than he did. I literally couldn't stop.

The world isn't the same, but how could it ever be? Robert Frost was right indeed. Life just goes on. The trick is to learn to live with all of the memories and allow them to be part of the future without taking over.

May we all find peace in our lives.

Applied Representation

Warning: not recommended for young readers, explicit language and content quoted below.

A little less than a year ago, I watched the documentary entitled Miss Representation for the first time and have since become invested in the women's movement and am now a self-titled feminist. I've seen more instances of sexism in my life than I'd dare to count, as have you all, but it wasn't until I was really looking did I see them everywhere. It's hard to ignore, and it's even harder to find my line amidst it all, the line which will make me the best possible woman I can be.

That's right, I said "my line". It's different for everyone; just because I think the balance I have of professional and feminine works for me gives no indication of whom else it would work for. And because people, women in particular, are trying to find a "generalization" for the movement to base itself on, so many people will be ostracized or ridiculed. It's hard to allow other people to be themselves, it's a problem the whole human race has, and it's hard to fight for the rights of someone unlike yourself. I dunno, that really bothers me.

But you have to begin somewhere. Tonight was the first meeting of the Women in Science club, and I went to my dorm division (shorter walk and, I'm hoping, more intimate discussions). We had a screening of the film and it, again, deeply impacted me. There's something about this documentary that affects me every time I see it, and it's always different. Okay, not always. The last few times it was distinctly the portion where they highlight the amount of rapes, although there's much they leave out.

Truthfully, I could write a book about our rape culture and I still wouldn't have felt like I'd said enough about it. It's something I don't want my children, my daughters especially, to experience, but I know it won't change by the time I have children. I want to live in a world where we teach "don't rape" instead of "don't get raped". The difference between these two ideas is monumental and I've found myself drawn to this portion of the movement more and more. I by no means am uninterested or unconcerned about the millions of other aspects, but this is the one that resonates with me, which could keep me up all night just thinking.

Just think of the implications of "don't rape" over "don't get raped"; it would greatly impact not just women, but men, too. It's true that most men are not rapists and I hope I never give indication or generalize to the degree where it seems I believe the opposite. Most men in the world are not rapists. Fact. But we do live in a rape culture, where women are objectified, sexualized, and dehumanized in almost every facet of our society. Don't even get me started on the porn industry and how it shapes the minds and expectations of young adolescent males in our country.

Okay, I'm started; this continues on the whole "most men are not rapists" statement aforementioned.

Almost all of porn is erotic and demeaning (it's very demeaning to men, too, but I'll discuss that another day) and nearly all of it depicts women being forced to have sex or coerced into sex or very violent sexual images. I'm going to very frank here: how many men get off on that kind of thing? A lot. Way, way too many, which is to say that there are many non-rapists who find overly sexualized rape to be arousing. Problem? Yes. Very, very huge problem.

If young adolescent males are being exposed to this as the idea of "usual sex", then imagine the expectations slowly being formed for regular teenage girls. Destructive to both genders, in ways our culture couldn't even recover from. I don't want to know what this country will be like in a hundred years if we don't do something to change this.

I read Jackson Katz's book The Macho Paradox. I started it a really long time ago, in fact, and it would make me both so angry and so sad I could only read a handful of pages at a time before I would be immensely pissed off to the point of needing to do something else or before I would start crying, so it took me six months to finish. But there's this whole section of the book which is about the porn industry and I have a piece for you that really, to me, illustrates the idea of our rape culture exemplified through the porn industry.

Consider the words of Max Hardcore, a popular porn director and actor whose name calls up over one million hits on Google. In an interview with Hustler magazine that is recounted by Robert Jensen and Gail Dines in their book Pornography: The Production and Consumption of Inequality, Hardcore said, "There's nothing I love more than when a girl insists to me that she won't take a cock in her ass, because--oh yes she will!" He described his trademark as being able to "stretch a girl's asshole apart wide enough to stick a flashlight in it," and went on the say that he doesn't hate all women, just "stuck-up bitches." The porn performer Amanda McGuire told this story about him in Icon magazine: "He has made girls cry and lots of girls puke--that's not unusual. I was there once when he throat-fucked a girl so hard she puked and started bawling." Hardcore, whose work has been referred to by porn reviewers as "pseudopedophilia" because of how he dresses up his "actresses" to look like young girls, explained the challenges he faces making his films. "It's pretty easy to get a slut to spread solo for the camera," he said. "And quite a different matter to get her to take it up the ass and puke up piss." (pg. 212)

It's one of the most disturbing things I've ever read, because that director assumes it's okay to behave in such a way to women. It is an entire other discussion about the women who are in such situations in life, and one which I know exist too many facets to get into this time. Wow, haven't we got wonderful discussions on the way.

I hadn't intended the post to take such a sharp, dark turn, but there you are. Thoughts? Questions? Leave them below.

Keep stirring, loves, just keep fighting, and remember to keep it real.

Chocolate Mug Cake

Ah, dorm life. Close quarters, little privacy, and absolutely no kitchen. I'm only mildly handling all of this, to be perfectly truthful. Apartment style living might be in my future here at MSU. Don't get me wrong, I really appreciate that to feed myself from 7 am to midnight every day all I have to do is go downstairs to the dining hall, but I really miss my kitchen and my oven. I mean, cats and private space and my family, too, but mostly the ability to make chocolate yumminess just because I want to eat it.

Well, I have adapted a bit. I'm learning microwave-friendly recipes; next time, I'm making my own potato chips. That'll be interesting.

So far, college is like high school, but no one cares if I skip class. I mean, I'm going to do a drama production, I'll be on an academic team, and I'll geek out about weird stuff like science. I'm still job-hunting, but I'm hoping it'll all work out for the best.

Ingredients:
4 tbsp flour
6 tbsp sugar
2 tbsp unsweetened cocoa powder
1 tbsp vegetable oil
2 tbsp milk
2 eggs

Mix up the dry ingredients.

Add the wet ingredients. Combine well. Pop in the microwave for anywhere between 3 and 7 minutes (mine took 7, but it's a very old microwave, so I'm cutting it some slack).

Yeah, it looks a little rubbery; it also tastes a little rubbery, but I can't complain too much. Without an oven, it'll never be perfect.

Like a complete idiot, I forgot the mug was ceramic. Yep, that's right. I touched it. I touched the butt. Thankfully, only one finger was hurt, but damn does it hurt! I'm alternating between wrapping it in a cold towel and ignoring it's whining. It definitely blistered, but it'll be okay. And, if not, tomorrow I'll pop on over to the health center to get it checked out by a nurse.

Keep stirring, loves!

Paid by Cupcakes

Hi y'all! This post is coming to you from my dorm room at Michigan State after my first day of classes. Speaking of my dorm, should you like to see it?

 You know me, I would never have survived without my precious clothes. I didn't bring as much as I thought I would, because it all fits decently well. I must admit, though, I brought way more stuff than my roommate, so I feel overpacked and overstuffed into my half. But that's okay, right?

This is my wonderful little nook. Unfortunately, I don't get cell service very well under here, which I don't really understand. You wouldn't believe how many books and movies I stuffed into those shelves; I think I'm the only one who brought so many. I like that.

This is actually where I spend most of my time in my dorm. I have my computer here, and the chair is surprisingly comfortable. I'm overlooking the window, I have my fridge right next to me, and almost everything I need is within an arm's reach. All of those papers on my bulletin board (provided by the school--cool, right?!) are different school organizations, excluding the pictures, the paper lanterns, the ruler, and the coupon from Amazon. You can't really see it, but that clock is a science clock: all the numbers are replaced with scientific equivalents. Haha, I'm such a nerd. I didn't think I'd spend a lot of time here when I moved in on Sunday, but now I realize I probably will. Except for when I'm doing my physics homework all over our floor.

 This is about as "themey" as I got. I really like it, though. It's kind of homey, right? I don't spend as much time up here as I should, but it's more comfortable than I expected. The sign really does it, I think. Brings it all together.

 Dis my plant. I also have tulips, but they're looking a little sad, so I didn't want to embarrass them by catching them on...memory card? Can't blame them, though; they spent two days in a car. This little ivy is a piece of the one from my grandpa's funeral almost 10 years ago. I'm glad to have it; it's a piece of my history and my home, right in the window sill.

This is our exciting entryway. We've got a lamp, a fan, and some kleenexes. I like it here, the way it's a little sparse. It's hard to shove your whole life into a little room, but I think I did all right.

So, my first day: I had all four of my classes today, relatively close together and of course FAR AWAY. My first class, French, is 25 minutes from my dorm (which also has classrooms, as you'll see in a moment) and then I have to truck it back to my dorm for physics in a mere 20 minutes. It ain't happenin'. So, tomorrow I only have French and I'll try to find a shorter route. I think I found a sidewalk-only route across campus that'll do it; I just need to shave off 7 minutes in order to not be late and still get a semi-decent seat. I really hate sitting in the back.

After being late for physics and missing the very first graded assignment (could only be done in class through this thingy called an iClicker; google it), I had some lunch time. I did meet some nice girls from a different dorm. B-t-dubs, it's really hard to keep introducing yourself over and over again to people. I'm finally starting to remember my floormates' names and they're starting to get mine, so it's getting easier. I do love hearing "Hi, Madison!" in the hallways and on the street; makes you feel like a real person on this monster of a campus.

Lunch done, I had calc. Now, I took the AP calc test, and assumed I'd get the credit, so I took calc II over the summer, right? Well, I didn't get the credit, so now I have to take calc I all over again, and then next semester I move to calc III. I'm going to talk to an advisor tomorrow about skipping calc I entirely, but I'm not sure if that's possible; I hope so, though, because I don't want to waste $4,000 on a class I don't need. God, couldn't I just pay them in cupcakes? So much easier.

After calc, I had to book it to astronomy. I'm not sure how I feel about this class. I mean, I have to take it, there's no option as an astrophysics major, but it's... well, okay, it's gonna put me to sleep. The professor talks really slowly and has one of those voices that just goes in one ear and out the other. Thank Godric he puts the powerpoints online. Actually, today, he told us when all of our tests were, all of the homework questions were due, and where you could find his lectures online. I spent the whole class thinking, "Are you encouraging me to skip?" I really like the content, space nerd that I am, so I hope that'll help me through.

Well, those're my classes. Nothing exciting, but enough advanced stuff that I feel less silly about trying to get out in three years. Hopefully, I can make it happen. No job or research or clubs to be spoken of yet, but I'm working on all three of those. Soon, I hope.

Keep stirring, loves, and maybe someday soon I'll get around to microwaving up some mug cake.

Pillsbury Chocolate Chip Cookies

As you may have noticed, I love baking chocolate chip cookies. They were the first thing I ever baked, so I have a deep attachment to them. Also, these were a request.

This is my last food post for a while--don't get too excited, I've got a couple of good posts about other stuff coming up--and the next post will be mug cake. I'm a little excited to make mug cake, to be honest, because I'm not sure how it'll work out. Otherwise, any food you see will be Holmes Hall cafeteria food. And, frankly, MSU food is amazing.

Ingredients:
1 1/4 cups brown sugar
1 1/4 cups white sugar
1 1/2 cups butter, softened
2 tsp vanilla
3 eggs
2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
4 1/4 cups flour
1 to 2 bags chocolate chips

Preheat the oven to 375. Combine the sugars and the butter in a large bowl on medium speed until soft and fluffy.

Add the eggs and the vanilla.

Beat in flour, baking soda, and salt at a low speed. This will take several minutes. I went very slowly, beginning at the edges to decrease the flour cloud above the bowl.

It's a very thick dough, and may need more flour depending on your taste. Since these are going in the mail, I added about 1/2 cup of additional flour to decrease the chances they'll get hard or squished.

Stir in the chocolate chips and rejoice at how yummy the dough looks. Eat more than you should. Then drop teaspoonfuls into a greased cookie sheet and bake for 8 to 10 minutes.

This recipe makes about 6 dozen, but I only got 5 because I couldn't stop eating the dough. I love floury cookie dough, but I don't like thick cookies. It's a little strange, I realize, but that's okay. I know other people will eat them.

So loves, we'll say goodbye temporarily and soon enough I shall return with deliciousness once more. Until then, be on the lookout for some slightly unusual posts. What can I say? I get the weirdest thoughts.

Keep stirring, loves!

To Infinity And Beyond

It's 1:30 in the morning, exactly one week out, and I just finished watching Toy Story 3. I've seen it before, of course, never watch new movies late at night, but there's something different this time. I knew it wouldn't be the easiest movie I've watched this summer, what with college around the corner. The thing is, though, it's not around the corner anymore. I've rounded the corner and I'm staring it straight in the face.

Growing up is never easy. We spend most of our childhoods wishing to be older, to be able to do more, and then we reach the age where we want to go back. I can say, there's a part of me wishing to turn around and be little like Bonnie again, completely enraptured and enthralled with my own imagination. I have a hundred thousand reasons to turn back the clock, but I think I've figured out how to grow up. For real, this time.

The difference between childhood and adulthood is a long, hazy period labeled as "adolescence" and as any teenager can tell you, it straight up sucks. It is by far the most emotionally and socially challenging time in someone's life because not only is one stuck going through puberty, but the adolescent brain is literally shaping into an adult brain. I read this book once (I don't remember what it was called; I'll find it and link to it), and it held an entire section about adolescence I found incredibly profound. At the time, I was maybe 16 reading it, and it changed things a bit for me. Not deeply, mind, but enough that I still remember it. For once, when I read something about adolescence written by a scholarly adult, I felt like they actually understood what it was like.

Now, looking three years back, there's much I understand I wish I could tell my younger self. More than I can honestly admit in a blog. But, not to go all cheesy on you, I wish there was one piece of wisdom someone had handed to me.

Growing up will be the hardest thing you ever do.

In this transition, which I have been assured at least a million times will be absolutely wonderful, many disturbing futuristic phenomena including, but not limited to: taxes, student loans, mortgages, keeping other beings alive, and maintaining a career bubble on the horizon. I have doubted my career choice at least a hundred times in the last four days and I can hardly wrap my mind around selecting and packing my books, let alone all of my stuff, and moving it to a location 10 hours away in a different state, in a different time zone, in a different climate.

Knowing all of that, I think I might be ready. Half an hour ago, I wasn't at all. I watched Andy displaying his toys for Bonnie, announcing each of them with love and care, and I cried. I blubbered and I pleaded with the cosmos, demanding more time. And when my eyes dried and I blew my nose, I took a deep breath, steadied myself, and knew.

For me, Toy Story 3 was my push. It is not the transition itself, but that final desperate cling to my childhood gave me the strength I need to go forward. I won't lie, I'm terrified. I have never been so far from home without my family, and I have never gone somewhere so alone. My heart skips a beat when I imagine my first day of classes. However, within that fear exists a hope and an excitement effervesces, creating the primordial soup for something grand.

I am still afraid. I am still anxious. I am still completely uncertain. These feelings haven't Disapparated or been Vanished into the woodwork. I am now, though, on stable ground. I will hold my own. Unfortunately, I might have grown up.

I will never stop being a nerd, though, no worries. I will wear my Gryffindor uniform on Halloween, carry my towel on Towel Day, dress up like Superman to see the movie next summer, and geek out every time a new Game of Thrones episode is uploaded to Project Free TV. Nerdiness has invaded my entire being and I wouldn't trade nerddom for anything in the world. 

I've labored over my worry about the reconciliation of being a nerd and growing up. I didn't believe the two could coexist, and it scared me because I've always been a nerd, but I've always been a little too grown up for my age. That's what growing up is for me: accepting they do complement each other and these concepts can easily coexist within me.

College is down the road now. It becomes clearer every day and next Sunday, it will be a reality. This last week, I've got a lot of work to do. And now I know I can do it.

Keep stirring, loves, and just keep swimming.

Raspberry Chocolate Fudge Cake

Today is my parents' 25th wedding anniversary and I wanted to give them something no one else could. Well, my brother and I gave them a gift card to Red Lobster, because my mom loves it, but that wasn't really what I wanted to give them. I didn't really know what to do. And then it hit me.

What do I do well that I love to do? BAKE!

So I made them a cake while they were at dinner. It couldn't be an average cake, you understand; 25 years deserves something better than a vanilla cake with fudge frosting.

This is an adaption of a cake from a Betty Crocker cookbook, and it really looks great.

Unfortunately, I had a bit of a cake failure. You'll see it in a picture shortly.

On another note, it's Something On Your Head Day, so I wore a hat today! I love hats, but my hair disagrees with me, so I wear them infrequently.

Ingredients:
1 box chocolate fudge cake mix
1 1/3 cups water
1 stick butter, softened
3 eggs
2 1/6 cups mini chocolate chips
3 cups heavy whipping cream
1/3 cup powdered sugar
1 1/2 cups fresh raspberries
1/3 cup seedless raspberry preserves

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Beat the cake mix, water, butter, and eggs for about a minute.

Stir in 2/3 cup chocolate chips.

Divide between two cake pans (I used 9") as evenly as possible and bake for at least 30 minutes. I should have left one of them in for about two more minutes.

Yeah... The bigger one broke, completely ruining the awesomeness of the cake. It was supposed to be 4 layers, but since I had a big fail, it had to be 2. So, I will remake this and do it right, and in another recipe post someday, you will see a picture of the cake correctly. Look out for it!

While it was in the oven, I made some dinosaurs and ate them. Just so you know how I pass my time.

The cake has to cool for about an hour before you can play with it, so start mixing up the filling and the frosting. Mix 1 cup of the fresh raspberries and the preserves in one bowl and let it just hang out for a bit.

In a cold metal bowl (which helps the cream stiffen up faster), beat the cream and the powdered sugar for about 5 minutes, until soft peaks have formed. After taking out a cup and a half of the cream, put it in the fridge to stay cold until the hour is up. When you take it back out, beat it again, because the cream at the bottom will have unstiffened a bit.

Mix that cup and a half of the cream mixture and add it to the raspberry mixture. After combining it, also store in the fridge until the cake is cool.

If you were more talented than I was, your cake could look better than this. You would cut each round in half, creating four layers of cake instead of two and you would slather filling in between each of them, and the cover it with the whipped cream, topping with raspberries and putting chocolate chips around the sides and the base. If you failed, like I did, it would look something like this.

Whew, it was a bad day. Demonstrated by the mess that happened when I tried to clean the cream bowl. So, pretty much, I wish I could start today over again and do it better. It was the day where I bought the final things I need for college; that was hard. It's also difficult to understand that in a ten days, I will be incapable of posting more than mug cakes and microwaved-pasta until Thanksgiving.

I thought I was coping well with this whole leaving thing. Now I'm not so sure. But I have a rule, and that rule is to not end a post on a sad note. So!

Happy Something On Your Head Day! Keep stirring, loves!

Polka Dot Problems

I haven't made anything since the 6th, I'm sorry to say, but I realized something: I added "fashion" into the tagline of my title in order to alleviate any issues when I talked about what I was wearing when I cooked. However, I've never done that. What is the point of having the word fashion in my tagline if I don't talk about it?

I have to admit, I have a problem. A serious problem. You wouldn't know it was a problem until you looked at my closet. Lucky you, you're about to get a miniature tour of said closet.

Polka dots! I have 5 dresses, 2 shirts, 1 sweater, and 2 skirts technically considered polka dotted, and I'm a little worried the collect might be growing.

My polka dot wire headband. I truthfully don't treat this as a regular piece of my fashion repertoire, but as a "get my damn hair out of my face" cleaning utility. 

This is my sweater; it's in the mid-60s here today, so I wore a sweater. Also, I got a haircut. It was a cute outfit. (I wore this skirt with it: http://www.modcloth.com/shop/skirts/stylish-selection-skirt)

I even have a polka dot camera case! I'm a bit of a polka dot nut.

So, there's my polka dots; I have a lot of them. This doesn't include other shapes, fruits, irregular colors and sizes of dots, floral dots, or, you know, anything else in a repeated pattern that we lump into the category "polka dots". This is just my straight-up polka dot collection.

The issue is not that I have a lot of polka dots; it's that I want more of them. Is that a problem? I'm not really convinced it is, because I could be addicted to much stranger fashion trends.

Keep stirring, loves!

Mama's Chocolate Chip Cookies (Abridged)

Hiya; it's been a little crazy in my life the last few days and posting hasn't been at the forefront of my mind. Amidst goodbyes, cousins, getting college-ready, and finalizing paperwork, I did find time to do a little cooking. My cousin Stella and I made chocolate chip cookies Mama's way, although I did use less flour and completely disliked the result. Sigh, I guess Mama does know best after all.

These were for girl bonding time and (of course they have a second purpose) a tag-along to my boyfriend's going away party on Monday night. I was taught to never show up empty-handed if you can bring food. So, I brought food.

But before we get to the cookies, yesterday was my birthday! I turned a whopping 19 years old. Yeah, okay, I'm young, but at least I can cook, right? We had the cousins over for supper and my friend Claire joined the group. It was a little bit of a sad birthday though, as Dakota had left very early that morning. But c'est la vie, loves, and the show must go on!

I hadn't wanted a cake, or a party, or presents or anything. However, Mama insisted and sometimes, you just have to concede to your mama. It's nice and pretty, and stuff.

I saw this at a shop in Galena and thought it was so cute; my mama interpreted that as I wanted it, but didn't want to spend money on it. Geez, this woman really is on a roll this post, isn't she?

Sock-monkey elephant! I collect elephants, and this is the icing flower on the already-iced cupcake. I have (now) 15 elephant stuffed animals, a toy elephant, and an elephant lamp. So, you know, a decent amount, but nothing extraordinary yet. Isn't this little dude cute?

You can never have to many college t-shirts! Actually, I think that's a lie. I'm up to five now, and that seems like a lot. I must admit, though, I have this long sleeved one that I want more of because it's so comfy and I love curling up in it on rainy days. Okay, so I rescind that statement: you can never have to many comfy college t-shirts.

This, however, is starting to get too school-spirity for me. Anything beyond this blanket (in addition to the poster, car window sticker, and two key chains) will have crossed a line. But there was my loot; nothing happy-dance-worthy exciting, but not disappointing, especially when you consider that I wanted nothing for my birthday.

Here's those cousins of mine. The dress I'm wearing is new and fits me to a t; I'm totally in love with it. And I'm also wearing one of the necklaces from Dakota. It's technically a locket, but I have this condition where I'm really lazy, so there's nothing in it yet. The one in the front with the black t-shirt is Cooper, behind him is his sister Stella, and on the other side of Tony is Charles. (You can see their grandma, my Aunt Debbie, peeking out of the corner.)

Here's Claire. We've been friends since middle school and I currently think of her as my Nerdfighter friend, because she's the one who really introduced me to the whole sub-community that allows me to happy dance about weird shit. And I like it. A lot.

So that was my birthday! Yay birthdays. So cookies.

Ingredients:
2 sticks butter or margarine
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
3/4 cup brown sugar
3/4 cup white sugar
1 tsp baking soda
2 1/2 cups flour
1-12 oz. bag semisweet chocolate chips

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Melt the butter a little in the microwave (about 30 seconds) and pour into a large bowl. Add the eggs and the vanilla and then mix thoroughly.

Add the sugars and mix thoroughly again.

Add the baking soda and flour and then blend until completely combined.

Add the chocolate chips. We didn't have one bag of chocolate chips, but a few mostly empty ones, so there's different flavors and sizes in this mix. I kind of like it.

My handy helper Stella. Baking is always more fun when there's someone to help you. Or even if they don't help you and just stare at you creepishly; it's still better to have someone there with you than to work alone. (Shh, don't tell anyone I said that.)

Using your average teaspoon that you, you know, eat cereal and mashed potatoes with, drop spoonfuls of dough onto a greased cookie sheet. Bake for 10 to 15 minutes.

If, like me, your first batch doesn't turn out so well, add more flour and they'll come out better. My mom has a rule, which I decided not to follow and then regretted, that you should use your rubber scraper or wooden spoon or whatever to lift up some dough, hold it over the bowl, and if it falls off, add more flour. If it doesn't, you're good and they won't get hard and crusty after cooling.

Well, that's how it goes. I called it an abridged recipe because the cookies didn't have enough flour, not because I left stuff out.

Keep stirring, loves!

Esther Day

Why, hello again. Sorry, no food today. Actually, there's no feminism or fashion, either. There's just a girl and a lot to say in honor of another girl.

Esther Earl is a Nerdfighteria hero, a girl who has inspired so much in the world. She died of cancer two years ago and there's so much in the Nerdfighting community I know she would be proud of now. I never met her, but how John Green talks about her, I know I would've liked her.

Esther Day is a day to celebrating love, in the Nerdfighting world, a day to acknowledge and admit that we love our friends and family because we don't say it enough. We take our friends and family for granted a lot and I know I do it, too. 

This is my family, my dad Mike, my mama Sherri, and my brother Tony. We're small and we aren't what you'd consider a "picture perfect" family, but I don't believe you could ever meet one of those. My mama is legally blind and my brother, poor kid, was born with a slew of complications. We have had our fair share of trials and sometimes, those trials make us frustrated with each other. In the end, they are my family and I love them. No matter what happens, these are the people you cannot insult or hurt because I will hunt you down and kill you.  

 This is Zoey, my best friend. We've been friends since 6th grade, a million years ago now. She moved at the beginning of the summer, so we haven't seen each other much; that's been harder than I thought it would be. Truthfully, we have no idea how we're still friends. When you look at our relationship on paper, we should hate each other, but we don't. There is no doubt we ride a roller coaster together, but we've gotten off the crazy train lately to ride the lazy river. This girl can count on me to seek revenge for the slights against her, and, bitch, she better have my back. (Warning: she and I may blog swap next week when we make good food.) I know I don't say it enough, and I hope you know it's because I don't know how to say it, not because I don't mean it, but I love you, sweetheart. Godric knows where I'll be without you.

Sheila and Emily (respectively) have been my academic buddies throughout middle school and high school. We took AP classes together, we studied together, we whined about homework loads together, and, most importantly, we cared about each other. These are two girls I wish I had become close with much sooner, and I had no idea how much I would miss them until these last few weeks, with college looming largely overhead. I do love them, and I completely under-appreciate them. I'm sorry for that; I'm trying to be better about that.

Who do you love that you don't think about telling? Esther Day is the perfect day to open up.

Esther Earl, Rest in Awesome.

Everyone else, DFTBA.