Tomorrow, we celebrate my friend’s 50th birthday. So, what’s in order for the occasion? My favorite word: C-A-K-E.
Maybe it’s because I’m recovering my energy back enough to be creative again. Maybe it’s because I like people to “ooh and aah” over something I have done. Actually, I find that pretty embarrassing, especially when accompanied by semi-orgasmic groans. Maybe it’s because, like me, my friend had her kids and a container shipload of change to home and career all in the span of her 40’s and could use a little bit of being seen. Maybe it’s because in a year, I will be 50 (What the?). Definitely a whole lot of the latter.
Call it a trial run.
So, I feel like making a cake. A blinged out, let’s-celebrate-you-my-friend cake.
And you know what? The funny thing is that as soon as I started planning the thing out (sketches, picking up the supplies, baking the layers, etc.), I started writing again.
CAUTION: Epiphany Below
I realize the two (cooking and writing) are lovers. They need each other. They enhance each other. Writing wants to be on its own all sequestered in the studio – cerebral, wearing black turtlenecks, sewing elbow patches into sports coats, smoking cigarettes and drinking whiskey, getting little actual writing done – and then Cooking struts its ample, fragrant self across the room and Writing is all like:
And then there’s the frantic embrace and the sloppy, wet kiss…and…and…then someone gets pregnant that night….
Not sure why this relationship continues to baffle me. Maybe I was single for too long and tend to idealize independence. But the babies these two make! (Sigh)
Back to the kitchen to get those cake layers dressed.
Fresh lemon curd and raspberry puree for fillings; Photo-Ilana Hulsey Rea