Me and Martha

Did I mention that I love to bake? Cookies mostly. I'm sure some of you saw me talking about it on Facebook or Twitter over the holidays. I bake now and then throughout the year, but then Christmas comes and I go completely insane. I think I made a thousand cookies over the course of a week. Chocolate chip with walnuts (for me), chocolate chip without walnuts (for my man), chocolate lace, raspberry thumbprint, chocolate jumbles, double chocolate chip (are we sensing a theme yet?) and chocolate fudge. Which isn't really a cookie, but still. Actually, now that I think about it, I have no idea what happened to all that fudge. I brought it over to my in-law's for a party and when I left I left it there--at least 2/3 of the batch was left. I wonder if Mom and Dad V. actually ate it all . . . .

Anyway, then for Christmas, my husband bought me Martha Stewart's Cupcakes.

And now, I'm obsessed with cupcakes. You should SEE this book. It's completely gorgeous and INTENSE. I mean, blueberry cream cupcakes? Zucchini spice cupcakes? Tiramisu cupcakes? Oreo cheesecake CUPCAKES? Are you kidding me?

The next time you see me, I may weigh five-hundred pounds. Which could be okay because then I could go on The Biggest Loser, which I've always secretly thought would be kind of fun torture.

Or maybe not. Because I, my friends, am INTMIDATED by this book. I've already picked out the two easiest cupcakes. I've already gone out and purchased the ingredients (PS: until now, I didn't even know there was such a thing as non-self-rising cake flour. You learn something new every day.) But I can't seem to bring myself to actually try it. Because what if I put in all this effort and the cupcakes suck? (You may not know this about me, but patience is not my strong suit.) Or what if they're all sad and ugly? The pictures in this book are so freaking spectacular, you have no idea. Of course they are. It's MARTHA. I've always fancied that I could be an amazing cake decorator, but every time I try it, I can't even write HAPPY BIRTHDAY without it starting out all big and bold end finishing off all teeny and patehtic like the scribble at the very end of a detention chalkboard. It frustrates the living daylights out of me.

To put it simply, my friends, I am afraid of failure. Which, by the way, is so unlike me. Who's the girl who went back and tried out for cheerleading again after not making it the first time? Who auditioned for the famous all-girl's choir in college even though I hadn't sung a note in two years? Who, I ask you, got through like ten hours of labor before begging for the epidural, then went back to pilates three months later and kept going even though I couldn't hold tabletop for more than five seconds? If I can do that I can make Martha's cupcakes, right?

That's it. I'm going to try it. Tomorrow. No. Tomorrow I NEED to finish this outline. So Thursday. Thursday I will bake. Check back then to see if I'm fat, satisfied and cupcake stuffed, or pulling my hair out and eating Chips Ahoy.