baking my feelings
Here's the thing about planning your own wedding: aside from the ludicrous expense and effort, it's utterly selfish. You are only concerned with what you want and what you need. Everyone you see asks you about your wedding and your self. For someone like myself, who is unafraid to be the center of attention from time to time but who prefers to let others shine, this state of being is uncomfortable at best. But on a spectrum ranging from one to gobbling xanax like flintstones vitamins, I am now firmly in the latter camp.
So I baked some miniature pumpkin cheesecakes for my friend Val's birthday, and realized that the antidote to wedding madness is intentionally setting time aside to take care of others. I spent two days on those little shits, and it was meditative and soothing and peaceful. It was also an opportunity to problem-solve and get in an intense upper body workout when the butter in the crusts leaked out of the pan and burned on the bottom of my oven for the better part of an hour. The billowing smoke was so thick and acrid that the cats instinctively hid under the bed until the sheet pans we used to flap all the smoke out the doors and windows were finally put away. It was the most normal I've felt in months.
So I've decided to keep going. My wedding diet precludes indulging in literally any activities or substances that typically make humans feel better, so my best friend and life partner xanax and I have been aggressively feeding others. This weekend's docket includes macarons and a request from Jake for "a sponge cake with creme layers...not lady fingers but like a layered cake. I saw them on GBBO...perhaps with a chocolate topper or some type of berry-based jam".
Next up: macarons and a very complicated sponge cake that I cannot eat. I can't wait.