I feel just like a Child.

Julia, that is.

Actually, I feel more like Duff Goldman of "Ace of Cakes" fame, but "I feel just like a Goldman" didn't have the right ring to it.

In my previous post I mentioned that I went to Emerson's rockin' birthday party yesterday. What I didn't mention was what I was doing from 1:30 A.M. until 6:30 A.M. the morning of her party...I was making a birthday cake for Nimsy that was pretty flipping sweet (literally).

Now I'm sure you're wondering why I didn't start making the cake until 1:30 the morning of the party, and I have a very good excuse for my procrastination. I wanted the cake to be fresh, but I was busy all day Friday. I would have made it Friday night, but I was at The Dead Weather's concert. The Dead Weather is Jack White's new band, and they are pretty amazing; not only are they all incredibly talented musicians, they are also ridiculously witty. Check it out. The show ended around 10:30, but my brother and I hung around because we wanted to meet Jack. We did, he high-fived us, and I swear my fingertips tingled and he transferred a little bit of talent into my E.T. hands (if you don't understand that reference, just look at my hands. Really, my fingers are ridiculously long). That being said, I didn't get home until just after 1:00 A.M.

And I commenced to baking. And cooling. And carving. And icing. And cooling some more. And rolling. And covering the cakes with fondant.

You would think I would be tired at this point, but I had chugged a big energy drink (which I normally despise) after the concert, and that sucker worked its magic on my body. By the time I finally went to bed for a two-hour cat nap, my parents were already done drinking their morning cups of coffee. As crazy as my night was, it was totally worth it to surprise my favorite little buddy for her birthday. She loved the cake, and, more importantly, little Ms. Manners said, "Tankt too. Iii uvv you...sooo much, Lolie." (Translation: "Thank you. I love you...so much, Lolie.") She's just so precious.

So here it is:

The cake

Me and the birthday girl doing her "1, 2, 3, Cheese" pose (note the icing all over her face)

Peace and love,

Lo B.

Let them eat cake.

It is the week for birthdays in the Baker family. Yesterday we celebrated Emerson's 2nd birthday (which isn't really until the 9th) with the craziest party ever to go down in the ATL. We ate, we chilled with her posse--whose collective age is still younger than mine--and their entourage (also known as parents), and we played on a moon bounce. I know you're jealous, but don't hate.

Today is Shelby's 15th birthday. If you don't know Shelby, A) you should...she's awesome, and B) she's my golden retriever. I think I can speak on behalf of everyone in my family when I say that we aren't really surprised that ol' Shelby has made it to the ripe age of 15 or, for those of you that are mathematically challenged, 105 in dog years. The dog is invincible. Really. In her life, she has survived almost anything that would normally kill a dog. Shelby has been quite obese for most of her life, she's had hip dysplasia for as long as I can remember, she was attacked by our neighbor's dog, she was run over by the newspaper boy, she almost chewed off her own tail, she has/had more tumors than I can count, and she's half blind and mostly deaf. The vet told us five years ago around this time of the year that Shelby was going to go to doggy heaven soon.

5 years ago. The running joke in our family has become, "Say goodbye to Shelby...it's her last Christmas," since my mom said that to us after the doctor gave her the ill-fated news of our poor dog. While I love my little energizer bunny--I mean, she's been my constant buddy since I was 5--I do believe that this will be her last Christmas. She's had a good run, and I am grateful that God has kept her around for so long. Here's a little something for the road...

Peace and love,

Lo B.

I mustache you a question.

I'm sitting at Octane, a local coffeehouse, with my friend Merridith, and we have just fallen in love.

With a mustache.

The man that goes along with the mustache...eh...not so much. But the 'stache itself is a work of art. Think Yosemite Sam but black as a raven and a bit curlier. The mustache is singing right now. We are enthralled by its glorious sound.

If we could take a picture of this misplaced eyebrow, we would. Alas, there is no way to do so discreetly. You'll just have to envision this piece of beauty with that clever little imagination of yours.

The only reason we are writing this right now is because we wanted to make a Missed Connection on Craigslist, but we were too scared to enter such a public forum; the mustache is so worthy of recognition, though, that we couldn't allow it to go completely unacknowledged, so we figured my under-the-radar blog would be a perfect place to rave about the powers of the upper lip plumage. Just to give you an idea of how commanding this 'stache is, our eyes have barely even noticed the pink octopus shirt the 'stache's slave (man) is wearing.

We will never be the same thanks to this experience. May the 'stache be with you.

Peace and love,

Merr T. and Lo B.

Three little words.

I recently (and by "recently" i mean about five minutes ago) decided to conduct my own sort of social experiment. I've always hoped to present myself in the truest way possible to everyone I meet since, let's be honest, nobody likes fake people. It's interesting to think about whether or not I give the same impression to lots of different people, whether or not their perceptions are similar...

So I sent out a mass-text to friends and asked them to describe me with three words. While I'm not going to write them out, I'll have you know that the only word used more than once was "witty" and that was probably just my friends' clever thinking as a way to get the hook-up for their next haircuts...

That being said, it can be the eye-opening experience to find the very core of your being summed up with three little words. I highly recommend checking with your close friends to see what parts of your personality stand out to them and measuring them up to your own self-analysis.

I think my favorite was from my friend Lauren who took a different approach with her three choice words: "Full of life."

I'll take it.

Cheers to constant growth and to a full life!

Peace and love,

Lo B.

Oui, je parle Français.

I'm going to live in France one day.  I feel it in the depths of my soul.  It's a funny thing to know since I've never actually been to France, but I think it's just one of those things that I've always kind of known.  I don't think God gave me a fascination with all things French for no reason...He has plans for me there. 

Quoi, tu me demandes?  Je ne sais pas.  Maybe it will be for a job once I finish at Le Cordon Bleu - Atlanta; maybe it will be for the cultural experience; maybe it will be for missions work (people tend to forget that just because France is a wealthy and successful country it does not mean the citizens are spiritually rich).  I'm guessing it will be a cumulation of the three.

But until I go, I will have to continue to satisfy my desire to live La Vie En Rose through a continued exploration of the country's language, films, music, and, my favorite, the foods (parce que je suis une gourmande).  Here are a few of my favorites in case you want to check them out:

1.  Crêpes.  For apparent reasons.

2.  Amelie -- one of my favorite movies in the world.  If I could choose to be a character in any movie for one day, I would be either Amelie Poulain or Edward Bloom in Big Fish (but for the sake of this post I'll go with Amelie).

3.  "Tout Doucement" by Feist.  Okay, so Leslie Feist is Canadian, but the song is in French....and it's just so happy.

4.  Paris, Je T'aime -- a wonderful collection of 18 short films, one for each of the arrondissements of Paris, made by some obscure and some well-known directors.  A very unique film.  On a side note, an American version called New York, I Love You is going to be released soon...I hope it captures the same diverse moods and unique perspectives of another beautiful city as the original does.

5.  Edith Piaf.  Love her or hate her, she's a legend.  Plus, her music is very fun to listen to while cooking.

6.  The pastries.  I will definitely continue to indulge in these little bites of heaven (specifically from a local French restaurant, Doucer De France) until I'm six feet under.

7.  I'll end with lucky number 7.  I'm currently reading "My Life in France" by Julia Child, and it's really what prompted this whole post.  I think my inner-Julia is dying to escape soon and roam free around the streets of the City of Lights.  I'm really enjoying this book, and I recommend it to anyone that likes to eat, to live life to its fullest, or to do both simultaneously.  

Well, that about wraps things up...In the words of Mrs. Child, "Bon appètit!"

Peace and Love,

Lo B.

If I were a boy...

While I'm not a huge Beyoncé fan (aside from memorizing the "Single Ladies" dance), I couldn't help but use her song title for this post.  I just got home from seeing "The Time Traveler's Wife" with a (male) friend of mine, and I've come to realize that based on how little I enjoyed both this film and "The Notebook"--which, according to most people I've surveyed, is the best chick flick of all time--there must be something wrong with me.  I've narrowed it down to the following possibilities:

1.  I was born a man.

***I've read "Middlesex" and taken enough biology classes to know that the odds of this being the truth are about one in eight-point-three billion.  Still, I have to throw it out there.

2.  I am a cynical, heartless person.

***Again, this is highly unlikely if based on self-analysis, although a few of my close friends might say otherwise; they really just wish I would cry more.  I don't.

3.  I am afraid to fall in love.

***I guard my heart, but I would LOVE to fall in love.  I just want it to be the right person instead of giving a part of myself away to someone that won't be a part of my future.  So I'm doubting that this is the answer....  

4.  Other people are stupid.

***Most of the girls that tell me "The Notebook" is their favorite movie have completely unrealistic expectations of romantic relationships.  In fact, I think a lot of them broke up with their boyfriends after reading "Twilight" because they don't think their men could compare with Edward.  Enough said.

5.  My breed is slowly becoming extinct.  The breed that thinks it's a man's job to pursue a woman.  Hardcore.  

***Along with possibility 4, I think this is the solution.  As a young woman in a society that is growing to accept and encourage the idea that it's a good thing for a girl to be forward with a guy, I find it mind-boggling to see how many of my female peers believe that it's healthy to romantically pursue a man.  Sure, he might enjoy the attention for a little while, and he might even think he likes the girl back; most of my guy friends that have been involved in relationships where girls pursued them said the fun quickly wore off when they realized that they didn't like the girls that much.  For them, it was more of the idea of being desired that attracted them to the girls.  I think every guy I've talked to about this has said something along the lines of, "I liked the attention, not the girl...if I would've liked the girl, I would've gone after her first."  

Ladies, beware!  Don't get caught up in the illusion (I really want to make an Arrested Development reference right now, but I'll refrain) of being the world's definition of a "strong, independent woman."  A true strong and independent woman doesn't need to pursue a man because she finds her worth in God alone.  

So pardon me for the rant, but I'm tired of seeing my smart friends sell themselves short when it comes to relationships.  I'm tired of seeing movies that make love and sex synonymous.  I'm tired of hearing complaints about being led on by so-and-so--let's face it, he's just not that into you.  

I'm done.  I had to get that out before my brain exploded.  Now I'm free to move on and try to love without expecting anything in return.

Peace and love,

Lo B.

Silence is golden.

"When words are many, sin is not absent, but he who holds his tongue is wise.  The tongue of the righteous is choice silver, but the heart of the wicked is of little value.  The lips of the righteous nourish many, but fools die for lack of judgment." -- Proverbs 10:19-21

Being from the South, I've grown up in a culture where gossip is more prevalent than Trekkies at ComicCon; put two Southern women together and the incessant chatter will begin.  I hate it, yet far too often I find myself caught up in a conversation that just isn't particularly edifying to others or to God.  It's something that God has really been working on in my heart, and I feel like it's finally starting to get easier to be wise with my words.  

I know it's clichè to say that if you don't have anything nice to say then you shouldn't say anything at all, but it's the truth.  Our words are purely the overflow of our hearts, so if we're spewing out words that tear others down or that simply don't give glory to our Lord, then we probably need to ask God what is wrong in our hearts.  What lie are we believing about Him enough to make us speak sinful words?

So here's a challenge:  think before you speak.  It's a simple concept, but it's a hard one to consistently act upon.  Don't talk just for the sake of talking...silence doesn't have to be awkward.  If you're talking to someone and they start gossiping or speaking foolishly, ask them not to.  Don't be snooty about it, but stand firm in the name of the Lord as you seek wisdom.  

I have failed, I am failing, and I will fail again, but there is hope for the future.  As we shift our way of communicating, we will set examples of how to speak in love and hopefully create a better home environment, a better community, and a better world, a world that honors God.

Think about it...then maybe speak about it.

Peace and Love,

Lo B.