99 Problems (And a Bitch Is One, and It’s Hedge Parsley)

After so much neglect, my yard was rife with, uh, opportunities. There are also challenges unrelated to the neglect that will likewise need to be addressed. Though a lot has been done - I neglected this blog and didn’t update as I went, like I’d hoped - there’s a lot more to be done, and I’d still like to document the work thus far.

Some context about my yard: the previous owner was very fond of trees, such that he planted dozens. He also planted roses and some other things in various places. The variety of plants that he brought into the yard, and the sheer quantity of them, has attracted quite a lot of wildlife as a direct result. This has presented some challenges while also being a source of joy for me. The logistics and expense of having so many trees is an ongoing challenge of its own.

Problems to be addressed

• Grass - Ongoing mowing, plus the grass has some patchy areas thanks to a lack of sunlight (trees blocking the sun), flood patterns, dog paths, and drought
• Edging - The grass up against the house, the block where the AC unit is, the fence, and bordering the sidewalk and driveway needs to be edged and maintained; the grass along the sidewalk has been allowed to grow such that dirt has begun to collect on the actual sidewalk and hide the edges completely; this has to be addressed in waves
• Soil erosion during heavy rains - The space between my neighbors’ houses and my own has a low point where the water from both sides funnels into a little river that goes all the way out to the street, collecting soil along the way and depositing it in the space where the ground levels out a bit, which is right before the sidewalk, and on the sidewalk and driveway, making quite the mess
• Tree health & maintenance - Need to have overall health of trees evaluated and have them trimmed professionally for the level I can’t reach, then trim the lower parts I can reach myself, plus ongoing trimming as part of regular maintenance
• Hedge parsley - Plentiful in a few spots, namely the front garden bed and one garden bed on the sidewalk of the house; terrible pest
• Rose bushes - They have all grown in excess of 8-9’ tall and over the pavers, now covering the edge of the yard; a branch of the largest one has actually grown so thick that it broke through the fence and grew nearly an entire bush - still using the roots of the original bush - in my neighbor’s yard
• Rogue trees - I have two hibiscus trees and two fig trees that have all grown abundantly out of nothing in the last few years; they will all need to be tamed and potentially removed, due to their locations and the nature of a fig tree
• Flower beds - They will have to be cleaned up, have the soil rehabbed, and replanted (total of five)
• Re-pave existing paved area - Prior owner paved an area just off the patio, but grass has grown through it; the pavers will have to be pulled up, area leveled, have a barrier applied, then have the pavers re-placed
• Pave area next to neighbors’ shed - My neighbors have a shed that is physically attached to my fence, which has been home for a variety of animals, rats and rabbits included; this traffic has done damage to the fence, ground, and grass, and the shed provides a haven for the rats that plague my property; I can’t force them to tear down the shed - nor can I convince them, as I’ve tried - but paving my side that is adjacent to it will at least reduce the traffic that continuously causes damage
• Replace/repair fence - Several sections of fence have been damaged by wildlife, my dogs, and just general wear & tear
• Utility bed - Flower bed around utilities has gotten overgrown, plus some stuff has died; need to clean it up
• Random holes - There are quite a few small holes throughout the yard, thanks to rabbits, armadillos, large weeds being pulled, plants or trees that have died and been uprooted, etc; have to locate these and fill them

I’ll talk through these in individual posts as I address them. I am also working to create a visual plan for the entire yard so I can plan where to put various plants and projects, which requires a lot of measuring and documentation.

Recap: The Beginning

I have been neglecting my yard off and on since I bought this house. Frankly, I never liked yardwork… growing up, my dad assigned mowing to me as a chore, and I hated it. The suburban house where I grew up had a large yard - front and back - and, of course, it was in Texas, so it was hot. I hated getting grassy and sweaty, and it certainly wasn’t worth the $5 or $10 I got in return. I never learned how to use a weed eater, so I just mowed as well as I could without doing any edging.

My elderly neighbor, who was like a grandfather to me, had an affinity for yardwork that I did not understand - until recently, anyway. He had a full array of tools and would attempt to give me advice. I was an ungrateful teenager and didn’t really pay attention. He repaid my inattention and lack of care by going behind me with his edger and making things look much sharper than I left them. I wish I’d listened. I could have learned so much from him.

All of that to say: I tried to avoid doing yard work from the moment I bought this house. I inherited a lawnmower, and I did mow here and there with it, but I eventually hired someone to do it regularly. When that stopped, I looked for others, and it was hard to find someone who was reliable, reasonable with cost, and capable of quality work. I eventually gave up the search and decided I needed to do it myself to save money. I bought an electric mower - having to deal with the gas was one part I hated - and a set of electric lawn tools.

My first spring here, weeds popped up everywhere. Pre-pandemic, I had a busy life out of the house, and I didn’t address the weeds with any sense of urgency. They became quite tall, and eventually, I spent a few days pulling them. I filled an entire garbage can - the big one that gets put on the street once a week for pickup - with weeds from my backyard. It was painful! I quickly hired a company to come treat the yard for weeds, and I’m still enjoying a yard that’s 99% free of weeds thanks to them.

Fast forward to this summer: I had mowed a week prior when I received a letter from the HOA about the length of my grass. I was instantly frustrated. My grass was what, 4” tall, maximum? I read their quote of the bylaw and realized it also called out edging, among other things. I had never edged. I would typically let the grass that had crossed the line over into the sidewalk grow until I could fold it over the main part of grass and do my best to cut it that way. It wasn’t effective. The edges of my yard hadn’t looked neat in years, but they weren’t terrible. In my annoyance, I thought, “Fine! Complaining about 4” grass and imperfect edges? I’ll make this yard look great! I’ll show them!” And so it began, with spite.

Guess who’s back?

 Well, that was a bit of a hiatus! Twelve years later, I’m back. My life has undergone quite a few significant changes, but as I look back at old posts, I’m struck by how some things have stayed the same. However, those are stories for another time. Here, now, I have returned to document my journey with rehabilitating my yard. Along the way, I might drop posts about how things have changed or other parts of my life. We’ll see.

Here are the big changes that will impact this journey with my yard:

• I bought a house. This means that I actually have a yard to maintain. I have been neglecting my yard for much of the 7 years I’ve owned this house. The house I bought was previously owned by someone who LOVED trees, so I have an abundance of trees, which complicates any yardwork.
• I was diagnosed with, and have been aggressively treating, ADHD. This is a big part of my mental health challenges, and I have to do some extra work in the background to keep track of what still needs to be done in the yard and balance my yard’s needs with the rest of my life. Part of the reason why I’m doing this blog is because it will help me keep track of what needs to be done and what progress has been made.
• I had COVID and subsequently experienced long COVID. TL;DR: COVID has severely impacted my ability to exert significant effort, and though I was training for a half marathon prior to the pandemic, I now struggle to run. It has also impacted my body’s ability to maintain body temperature, which means it’s very difficult for me to work outside under certain circumstances (and specifically in the Texas heat).

My inner biologist (biology was my original college major!) has been having a field day with all of the different species of insects, spiders, plants, fungi, and even animals I’ve seen in my yard. I am documenting what I find on both iNaturalist (everything!) and BlueSky (more interesting/noteworthy things).

Thank you for joining me on this journey. I welcome your feedback!

A reason to look under the surface.

The reason why you cannot choose a mate based solely on their physical appearance is that such an appearance is a beautiful, fleeting thing, drifting nearby like a bird on the wind. It is temporary. It is not meant to be tied down, and it does not stay. Trying to grasp physical beauty is like trying to prevent the spores of a dandelion from blowing away in the breeze: you can blow them away yourself, making a wish as they disappear to create new life, or try to restrain them, causing frustration in the process. Let beauty bring joy while it is near, but realize that it is not a solid foundation for lasting love. Choose a mate because the warmth inside you is doubled when that person is near.

The cost of my weight.

Please note that this is the first time I have ever spoken publicly and honestly about my weight. I am not expecting sympathy or advice. I encourage discussion, as long as participants are respectful.

For the majority of my life, I have been overweight. At 5'6", I am considered "overweight" by body mass index standards at a weight of 155 pounds or higher. At 26, I believe I have been under 155 pounds for a total of approximately five months in my adult life. I was also not overweight as a junior in high school or as a seventh grader. Otherwise, since roughly the second or third grade, I have weighed more than what doctors considered healthy.

Recent events have caused me to consider very seriously the impact of being overweight. From my experience, carrying around extra poundage costs one something in several ways:
1. Financially: When you are overweight, you typically consume more calories than the average person. Generally, this means that you spend more on food for yourself than most people spend for themselves over the same span of time. More recently, as organic and gourmet foods have become more popular and accessible, the cost of eating healthy has also risen; however, when you compare costs on a meal-by-meal basis, the diet of someone who consumes more calories costs more. Overweight and obese people also experience a financial cost related to health problems that arise from the excessive weight they carry, the poor diet choices they make, or the lack of exercise in their lives.
2. Socially: Friends, with the best of intents, may exclude their heavier counterparts for a variety of reasons - they recognize that a certain physical activity may be too trying, a particular scene may require too little clothing (a beach, a club...), or a specific outing may be intended for those they are confident they can match up with someone of the opposite sex. Those who are overweight often also experience a shortage of confidence, though this does not happen in all cases. With less confidence, overweight people are less likely to be socially appealing and accepted.
3. Romantically: Everyone has heard the common phrases that deride overweight people - especially overweight women. With the standards set by society today, fat has become something that causes one to recoil. Thinness has been rated as more important than the independent beauty of facial features. Again, lessened confidence contributes to a less effective effort in this area. Some men or women may avoid dating their overweight potential matches because they are concerned with what society may think of them. Even if a person who is overweight is on the road to being physically fit and (probably) more attractive to members of the opposite sex, they will be passed over in favor of those who are already fit.
4. Professionally: It is especially true for women that a more attractive appearance means a higher paycheck. Thinner, prettier women are selected more frequently for promotions or special assignments, even in fields in which a woman's attractiveness does not contribute to the execution of the job itself. This is not to say that favors are traded by more attractive women - rather, attractive women are seen by superiors - male and female alike - as being more successful than overweight women regardless of individual achievements. Society values thin women, and so do employers.

I'm sure there are other costs. These are the ones I have personally observed.

I began overeating as a child. When I didn't feel accepted by my schoolmates, or was depressed by what was happening at home, I ate foods I enjoyed because it made me feel good - if even for a moment. As I got older, I was occasionally ridiculed by my older sister for what was then only moderately excessive weight. When this occurred, I ate more to avoid the pain that came with being seen as unacceptable by my family. The more overweight I became, the less I liked myself. I argued with my parents when purchasing clothes, convinced I could fit in a smaller size because the size label on the ones that fit me made me feel like an outcast. Further pressure from another family member, my grandmother, emphasized that my weight was something that should cause me to feel constant shame, until I rid my body of the excess. Once I felt that pressure, I began to convince myself that any other family members also saw me as shameful or ugly.

When I reached junior high school, I was wearing a size 6. My sister - who is four years older - was wearing a size 2 or 4 at the time. I sometimes stole her jeans, wearing them to prove to myself that I was thin enough to be accepted by my suddenly very appearance-conscious peers. That year, seventh grade, I made it onto the girls' basketball team for my grade. I played almost exclusively in the zero period, not having the skills of the other girls - many of whom had played club sports as kids. I had been in gymnastics most of my childhood, which did not encourage much extra physical activity - not nearly enough running. After basketball season, I participated in cross country running, which inspired a love of running which still lives inside me today.

After seventh grade, I was unable to make it onto a sports team. This made me sad, but I took up other activities - choir, various clubs, and, as was required by my parents, band. I occasionally went running after school, which ended when one of my classmates anonymously messaged me online that he had seen my efforts and proceeded to relentlessly ridicule me for being fat. Ashamed beyond belief that I had paraded what was obviously a disgusting body around my neighborhood by going for runs, I resolved never to run in daylight (I still don't run when the sun is up). In my sophomore year, band became marching band, which meant two things: more physical activity from August through December, and the embarrassment of being fitted for a uniform. By this time, I had gained more weight and was a size 10 or 12. What size I actually was isn't completely clear - I was still shoving myself into sizes that were too small for me. By this time, I had also dabbled in eating disorders, sometimes forcing myself to throw up after meals, other times going days without eating much, if anything. I was unable to sustain either for long enough to support substantial weight loss.

At the end of my sophomore year, certain things in my life changed, and I spent that summer making a more intense effort to lose weight. I often went days without eating more than a couple of crackers. By the end of the summer, I was a size 6 or 8, and everyone from my friends to my band director commented on how amazing I looked. My band director tied this into his belief that I would march better and be a generally better high school student.

The summer after junior year, I went to a pre-college program at Duke University, in Durham, NC. It was there that I was introduced to Ben & Jerry's ice cream. I gained weight back. Without the supervision of my parents, I was suddenly able to eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I left one size bigger.

This movement back and forth between mock anorexia and binge eating continued through my senior year of high school and freshman and sophomore years of college. The summer after sophomore year, I visited my grandmother. She didn't have to say anything to make me hate myself the instant I saw the pictures of me from our excursions on that trip. One picture stands out in my memory: I was wearing jeans and a polo. I looked like a soft-edged rectangle - no real waist. I was standing next to my father in the picture. I remember thinking, "I will always be his 'fat daughter.'"

I returned from the trip to where I was staying for the summer - an MIT frat house - and continued to party. One night, I was so angry with my roommate that I drank extremely excessively. I ended up vomiting at least a dozen times that night, damaging the lining of my stomach in the process. I used this as an excellent excuse to be anorexic for the rest of the summer. Over a month, I dropped quite a bit of weight. I didn't have access to a scale, but I would guess I lost about 40-50 pounds, ending up about 130 pounds. For the first time in a long while, I loved my body. My friends commented constantly on how good I looked. This is the only time I was not overweight. I developed a very strong love of running on the Charles River in Boston over this summer.

I then took a job which took me all over the US. Without any sort of social support, as I never saw the same people day-to-day, I began to eat emotionally again. Needless to say, I gained the weight back, and eventually weighed in around 180 pounds when I returned to Dallas to spend the rest of my year off from school working. I was 20.

I am now 26. Except for a period when I was 24, when I ate a perfect diet and ran constantly for about four months (during which I was, at my lowest weight, 156 pounds - still overweight), I have been ashamed of my appearance and generally lack confidence in this area. Most times I go for a run, I still hope no one sees me - and if anyone does, that they are not someone I know who will belittle me.

I am now in a phase of my life where I look to my future: I want to have a career, get married, have children, be happy. I am rejected by men regularly because of my weight. Some do it in kind ways; others are not so tactful. Each time, it destroys my hope for having those ideals, and nothing hurts like the vacuum that is left by evaporated hope. I have tried countless diets and exercise regimens. I have starved myself into misery (and then eaten my way out of that misery). I am about 190 pounds, and I wear a size 12 or 14. My doctor when I was a teenager told me I somehow carried extra weight that didn't appear to be there, but that doesn't explain this discrepancy: the average American woman is 5'4", weighs 140-150 pounds, and wears a size 12 or 14. I don't know where my extra 40 pounds is going, but I guess I'm relieved to be roughly the average when it comes to clothing sizes. At least I have company. Even when I weighed around 150 pounds, I was incredibly ashamed of myself because I was not 120 pounds.

My goal here is not to inspire sympathy. I think we need to take a realistic look at how society views weight, and what it costs each of us who is overweight. Fresh off of my latest rejection this week, I am feeling that cost in a very intense way. Even worse, the hate for my own body rarely - if ever - is quiet. Every time I look at my flabby arms, every time I try on a pair of jeans in a store, every time I put on my apron at work and wonder how much of my belly causes an awkward shadow, I feel ashamed.

I am finishing this at 2:26 AM. Surely no one is awake to see my disgustingly fat ass run down the street.

New year, refurbished you.

The frequency of posts related to resolutions on my Facebook news feed reminds me that this is the time of year when people collectively decide to change in various ways - most popularly, to become more fit. I see dozens of posts, ranging from friends irate at the abundance of new or recently-returning members at their gym to others who very well may be the cause of this irritation. Never mind that these "ghost members" keep fitness centers in business by having their dues automatically debited from their checking accounts but not ever actually visiting the gym after January 26th, thus eliminating potential machine wear and tear, water and electricity usage, and whatever other costs gyms incur. On the other side of things, a co-worker informed me yesterday that his resolution is to eat more chocolate, which he began by purchasing several king-size candy bars. Which he ate in front of another associate who had, as many do, resolved to lose more weight. Irony for breakfast, excellent!

"New year, new you."
It's an advertising slogan, an over-used saying, a trite reminder that the old you is somehow bereft of merit, attractiveness, or whatever trendy attribute currently is being pursued by those around you. It appeals to many: "Ah, yes, I love shiny, new things!" I take issue with a few points on this statement: 1) The implied assessment of the dawn of a new year being the best time for change. 2) That the "you" you are pursuing is somehow completely different from the "you" who hears this statement. In the interest of encouraging a different thought process, I have detailed my arguments here.

"New year..."
Is the beginning of a year an appropriate time for change? Absolutely. Is it the only (or the most) appropriate time for change? Absolutely not. This idea that we must resolve to make positive changes in our lives once a year is poppycock. On February 2nd, 2012, I decided to change by starting a regular practice of yoga. I did this because my doctor recommended it to ease my anxiety; never mind the fact that she more or less ordered me to do it in November 2011. The happiest people I have known make changes as they are needed, not when it is required due to social pressure. I am certainly glad to see that many are committing to positive changes, but such things should not be isolated to this time of year.

Maybe it should be "New minute..." - because you can, and should, make changes at any moment. Particularly regarding undergarments, in that specific moment before you put on your pants.

"...new you."
The preposterousness of this half of the statement makes me laugh every time (silently, within my own mind, as those who take it seriously have been working out a lot - or so I hear). This is similar to those words so often printed on the boxes of products that so badly need help making it out of the store and into your closet/garage/attic/other seldom used, usually dusty space in your home. "New & improved!" - the world's most popular paradox. If it is new, it was not here previously; thus, it could not have possibly been improved from a previous state. However, sales of items with simply "Improved!" on the side have been shown to be lackluster, as humans always want the full package: shiny new things AND things that are better than they were before being repackaged. Unless it's a hamburger from McDonald's, in which case, only "New!" will work.

Anyway, you are going to be the same "you" tomorrow who existed yesterday, with the same fingerprints (barring Fight Club-esque experiences featuring lye and fingertips), DNA (unless you are bitten by a life-changing spider and feel inspired to climb up the sides of buildings and fight crime), and basic foundation (excepting, of course, those that have accidents with adamantium). This is not to say that you cannot change; thanks to inspiration from sources such as your scale, Oprah, The Seven Habits of Highly-Effective People, and the Cosmetic Surgery Association's print magazine New You (ahahaha, silly surgeons!), you can make changes ranging from small ones in your day-to-day life to ones that necessitate hours of patience at the DMV in the pursuit of a new driver's license photo. Truthfully, you are just doing what electronics companies do on a regular basis: swapping out some parts, cleaning up the exterior a bit, and putting the finished product in new packaging. Refurbished you, now available at your local Fry's Electronics for a reduced price!

Change is good.
So change, and make it a daily habit on so many levels. Change your clothes. Change your perspective. Change your habits. Like any good pilot, make adjustments as conditions change. Even if your changes do not work out, you will have learned something. If you resist this practice, the floodwaters of change will drown you as everything around you changes (and not just when Prince's ever-popular song is done being played for the year and party quarters are graced with a fine coat of dried champagne).

The only thing that does not change is the frequency of change itself.

The search for the best petit four in Dallas.

There's something endearing about petits four. Is it its tiny size, created just for you? Perhaps it is the tiny flower on top, or one of many various designs. It could definitely be the tradition: petits four have been served with coffee or tea as part of dessert or afternoon tea for generations.

Whatever it is, I love them. So much so that if I spend any amount of time in a particular city, I deem it necessary to determine where I might find the best petits four.

Having already done this for Austin (Rise & Shine Bakery on 2222, http://www.riseandshinebakery.com), my city of residence is covered. Now that I am on vacation in Dallas, I had the idea to spend one of my days demystifying Dallas bakeries.

An important note is this: many bakeries do not sell petits four at all. Some make them by the dozen to order only. There are a few bakeries that make them every day and have them ready for sale whenever you want one on a whim. This last category is the type of bakery for which I typically seek, for two reasons: 1) Until my wedding day, I will not need a large quantity of petits four; 2) I am a relatively spontaneous person on a diet. If I decide to have a petit four, it is not planned ahead of time.

There are a few types of petits four:

Vanilla: Typically characterized by vanilla cake and white frosting, with a pastel flower or other design on top. My favorite.

Chocolate: Chocolate cake with (usually) chocolate frosting (often fondant; more on that later), with a design of random color on top. I have seen a lot of odd colors on chocolate petits four.

Filled: Some type of other cake with a creamy or gelatinous filling. Always interesting, rarely what you expect it to be.

Occasionally, there are petits four made with a different type of cake. These are very rarely made by bakeries on a daily basis, but you can request them on special orders.

For these types of investigations, I usually choose vanilla - it's my favorite type, and it usually is a much easier petit four to judge. Chocolate petits four tend to be very similar, whereas vanilla petits four can be extremely different in size, moisture, texture, flavor, and color. I am also not the biggest fan of chocolate, despite being female (thought an intense love of chocolate came with the territory?...).

I placed many phone calls and trolled many web sites today looking for bakeries serving vanilla petits four within a reasonable driving distance of the north Dallas area. I narrowed down the list carefully (some were out of vanilla when I called; others were far outside of the acceptable driving range) and came up with the following list of five:

1. A & J Bakery, 3515 Oak Lawn Avenue, 214.526.0077, http://ajbakery.info

2. Celebrity Cafe & Bakery, several locations (I chose Highland Park, at 65 Highland Park Village), 214.528.6612, http://www.enjoycelebrity.com

3. Tart Bakery, 5219 W Lovers Lane, 469.335.8919, http://www.tartbakerydallas.com

4. Aston's Bakery, 4342 Lovers Lane, 214.368.6425, http://astonsbakery.net

5. Stein's Bakery, 12829 Preston Road, 972.385.9911, http://steinsbakery.net

Also of note: Society Bakery in the Lower Greenville area was highly recommended by some, but they were out of petits four when I called. From the sound of their reviews, their cupcakes are better anyway... and I didn't want a cupcake.

Clockwise from top: A & J, Tart, Aston's, Celebrity, Stein's.

Assisting in this investigation was my friend Kaytee. Some of the opinions to follow were contributed by her. Thank heaven she was there to share the sugar with me, because I think I would have gone into shock otherwise.

Note the relative differences in size and various decorations.

A & J: They had run out of vanilla petits four sometime between when I called and when I arrived. I decided that having already made the drive, I would go ahead and purchase a chocolate one. Coming in at a cost of $2.71, it was the most expensive. The picture doesn't entirely do its size justice. It was more a slice of cake than a true petit four and was easily three or four times the size of Aston's offering, which was the smallest. The bakery was sandwiched into a row of buildings on Oak Lawn and wasn't very appealing from the outside, but there was parking in back - thank God! No having to reverse onto a busy street like Oak Lawn.

The best thing about the A & J petit four was the surprise at the base: a creamy chocolate filling reminiscent of chocolate mousse. It was DELICIOUS. As previously stated, I'm not even a fan of chocolate, but that was really, truly a treat. The cake itself was relatively moist, with a nice texture. Again, more akin to a piece of cake than a petit four. The icing, however, ruined the whole cake. It was like fondant, but less matte. It had a very artificial taste to it. Had I been able to get vanilla, this problem would not likely have come up, as most places use a cream frosting on vanilla. For whatever reason, I really do not enjoy fondant... it has that icky artificial taste, an awkward texture, and doesn't contribute much to the overall visual of the cake. Had this petit four/piece of cake had cream frosting on it, I would have thoroughly enjoyed it. It was still MUCH too large for a petit four and was moderately expensive (not the highest I've ever seen, but the most expensive of the day).

Rating: 3.5 of 5 stars

Tart: The second smallest petit four, it was an appropriate size, though a little smaller than what you might typically find. Its cost was $2.25. The bakery itself was the cleanest, most visually pleasing of all of the locations. The interior had a cutesy appeal to it and was everything I might expect from a nice bakery operating in 2011. Additionally, the lady at the counter was more friendly than any other staff I encountered at any of the bakeries. She even recommended a cookie (which I, being a sucker for lemon anything in pastry form, purchased). Overall, this was a bakery I'd visit again, just based on the feel of it.

Again with the surprises... there was a layer of creamy frosting in the middle of it. Pleasant, creamy interjection. The cake itself was very moist and flavorful, substantial but not heavy. The frosting was creamy and delicious, contributing some sweetness, but not overloaded with sugar. The petit four was very well-balanced, owing to the substance of the cake and the moderate sweetness of the frosting. Not even the fondant flower (which WAS cute, therefore an acceptable application of fondant) could distract me from the perfect balance. The cake could have had a touch more flavor, but otherwise, I was perfectly satisfied with how it tasted, both by itself and paired with the coffee and tea I had before me. Well worth the moderate price of $2.25.

Rating: 4.5 of 5 stars

Aston's: Far and away the smallest petit four I have ever seen. I had my choice between a larger size and the small size, but the larger size was actually a "cake square" and far too large to ever be considered a petit four - bigger than the A & J "petit four." The shop felt stuck in 1964 and was kind of a pain to access, due to the complicated layout of Lovers Lane just east of the Tollway. At $1.75, it was on the lower end of the price range, but considering how petite it truly was, I would have expected to pay $1. The lady who served me was nice enough. Also worth noting: the minimum charge for credit cards is $5, so bring cash if you plan on a visit for personal indulgence.

Considering the actual petit four, I don't think I would have been surprised if the clerk had listed air as a main ingredient. It was extremely moist, fluffy, and light. Kaytee and I could not believe how moist it was. That said, the cake had very little flavor to it. "Bland" and "mild" were words we used to describe it. The icing came close to what I would consider ideal for a petit four - creamy, without too much sweetness, but again, it lacked flavor. It was very obviously fresh. Other than how moist it was, it was very unremarkable. Mediocre.

Rating: 2 of 5 stars

Celebrity: I have to admit, my expectations here might have been higher merely because of its location in Highland Park Village. Extremely well-heeled customers expect a lot, right? The interior and exterior of the cafe were cute, in a way: nice tables outside, compact inside with various pink accents, traditional bakery case. I placed my order, and the cashier tossed a petit four into a pastry bag. She swiped my card. She walked away. No "thank you," no receipt. I watched her wander around the small area behind the counter as my receipt printed from the machine. She realized I was still waiting and returned to hand me my receipt. At $2.44, it was one of the day's more expensive samples.

The cake itself is vanilla, with white frosting and green decorative frosting. I know from seeing the petits four in the case that the green frosting was in some sort of decorative shape. I have no idea what that was, as the frosting was smashed in the bagging of the pastry - you can see that it looks like a solid green layer of frosting on top. Had I received this petit four recently after it was baked, I would guess that it would have been rather good. The cake suggested a creamy, thick texture, almost heavy. It had more of a french vanilla flavor to it, which was interesting. The frosting was about right on sweetness. All of these points of interest were severely discounted by the fact that the petit four was slightly stale. As such, the frosting was dry and cracking in an ugly way; the cake's hint of moisture was just that - a hint; the flavor hid behind the slight envelope-glue flavor of staleness. This one could have been great, seriously. But with the presentation, which was marred as soon as it hit the bag, and the slightly-past-its-prime condition, its potential was not realized. Match that with the lady at the counter, and I'm not inclined to return to examine the further potential of this offering. But again, what could have been...

Rating: 3 of 5 stars

Stein's: I won't lie... I really wanted this petit four to be the best. It was a perfect size - not too large, not too small, but slightly larger than medium. Plus, at $1.40, it was easily the best value. Again with the flashbacks - I felt like I'd stepped back to 1992 (where's my Minnie Mouse shirt and hot pink bike shorts?). Parking was plentiful, the location was easy, the staff was friendly, and the shop had the largest variety of baked options of anything I'd seen all day. Additionally, the petit four was the prettiest one I'd seen (just half a hair ahead of Tart's in visual appeal).

But it wasn't the best. What a beautiful letdown. Close, but no cigar. Aw, shucks. Even more shameful? The cake itself was the best flavor of any petit four I've had. It was interesting, and savory, and not excessively sweet. It was creamy (as Celebrity's, but less heavy), moist, and fluffy. Fresh. Delicious. The icing on the cake? So sweet, it burned going down. Seriously. I would eat that cake all day, every day, but the frosting? I'd scrape it off to give to the dog. And frosting is usually my favorite part of a cake. If you like your frosting sweet, go to Stein's; otherwise, you might want to seek out a different place. Unless your dog likes frosting.

Rating: 4 of 5 stars

At the end of the experiment, here's how they stacked up:

1st: Tart Bakery

2nd: Stein's Bakery

3rd: A & J Bakery

4th: Celebrity Cafe & Bakery

5th: Aston's Bakery

If you're in the mood for a quick, sweet treat, head to Tart. Elevated atmosphere, well-balanced flavors for a balanced palate, friendly staff, and reasonable pricing.

Tart Bakery. Best petit four in Dallas, period.

Blog coming back to life?...

It is time to resuscitate the blog, now that I:

a) have enough time to write (sometimes),

b) have material about which to write, and

c) am starting to recognize that my ability to write is being wasted.

Those things being said, I have some things to post tonight, and I will try to continue posting with some regularity. Cheers!

I'm looking for housing in Austin... I found a bunch of crazy people instead.

My impending move to Austin has me a little nervous about my ability to find an apartment. I have, thus, turned to the internet to look at places ahead of time. Rent.com sends me spam. Apartments.com has archaic quotes for rent (one place had rents listed $200 below their current rates). Property management companies' web sites would have me believe I will be living on an oasis near every interesting hangout and happening in the Austin area with washer/dryer included for a mere $475/month.

Craigslist.org has dozens of insane people looking to do one of two things: a) sell me their product/web site/house or b) make me their roommate. The responses inspired enough roaring laughter and incredulity among my friends and family that I thought them worthy to share with you. Names/e-mail addresses have been removed in order to protect the mentally impaired.


<***********@hotmail.com>
to northaustinapts@gmail.com
date Fri, Jul 3, 2009 at 12:14 PM

Hello,

We will have an opening in our house soon. There are a good mix of people living here. We are all into bicycles, I ride a 12 mile commute daily. We are 420 friendly, but it is not a main part of out day.
The house is just a mile or so from campus and has a couple of guys and a couple of girls. actually 4 guys and 2 girls. 3 people live in the house and the rest stay in tents in our nice little back yard that has a fire pit, rope ladder, and ping pong table. People have joked before that our backyard looks like a photo from an REI catalog.
The opening is in the second biggest room in the house and rent is around $300- $400 depending on how many tenters are here. Bills usually run $30-40. There is a house computer with internet, and high speed connection for the room.

We were wondering when you were wanting to move in somewhere, and if this living situation would be good for you. Everyone at the house is laid back and although we party sometimes, the house is generally quiet. We are into making kombucha, yogurt, people sew here, most everyone plays piano, and we have one (1) small cat named Bones. I personally am allergic to most cats but this one doesn't seem to bother me. I really prefer dogs, but am at a point in my life where I will most likely be moving and traveling quite a bit in the next few years so... no dog.


If this sounds interesting to you we can set up a meeting.
Cheers,

M***
p.s. The house is having some changes as a couple of people are moving (hence the room).]

Maybe they keep the cost of bills down by having community showers with the garden hose in the backyard?
definition of kombucha from dictionary.com: (kŏm'bōō'chä')
n. A lightly sparkling beverage made by fermenting black or green tea and sugar a culture of various bacteria and yeasts.

from <**************@gmail.com>
to northaustinapts@gmail.com
date Fri, Jul 3, 2009 at 11:26 AM
subject Re: Apartment Needed for End of August
mailed-by gmail.com

let he have you number I have something I think you would be intrested in.

This was all the e-mail said. He/she didn't tell me anything about who they are, what/where this place is, or their contact information, yet I'm supposed to deliver my phone number?

<***************@gmail.com>
to northaustinapts@gmail.com
date Fri, Jul 3, 2009 at 7:54 AM
subject regarding your ad on craigslist
mailed-by gmail.com
signed-by gmail.com

Greetings,
I happened to realize that your looking for a tennancy via craigs list. I realised I may as well shoot you an email when I had the idea, since I have been up to a great amount of of toing and froing over the past few months, [about 5] pack ups, and have attempted going for a place on craigs list with not even any result. I recommend you have a look at this site http://***********.**********.com

Another guy actually recommended the site, when I had no success on craigs list and 3 other sites, so now im doing the kind deed : D The company have absolutely helped me the last 3 occassions when I have been finding a new place, and have an excellent amount to choose from, if you simply copy the site's steps.

Really hope it helps at least,
*****

This was clearly a scam, or at least someone trying to sell a web site. What struck me about it was its grammatically awkward writing.

There were a few others from people wanting me to work for their oil companies for free housing or wanting me to pay to live in their homes while they were apparently in Nigeria. The catch? They also wanted me to fill out every single detail about myself and my life over the past few years in good faith.

Here's one guy who wants me to be his "payment representative" and stay at his place while he is in London. I get the distinct impression there would be drugs involved:

********* *******
<*********@gmail.com>reply-to*********@gmail.com
to northaustinapts@gmail.com
date Fri, Jul 10, 2009 at 3:35 PM
subject APARTMENT IN AUSTIN
mailed-by gmail.com

Hello,
I reside and owned a two bedroom apartment in Austin but i am presently in London with my family on an official trip. Am using this opportunity to inform you that i have a vacant furnished two bedroom apartment with all amenities including internet facility.Am looking for someone that can take care of the apartment on my behalf without paying any rental fee but who will in turn serve as my payment representative in Austin because i majorly deals in art work which i am presently in London on an official trip to exhibit some of my art works for my clients in London.You can contact me if you are interested in this offer in other for me to send you the apartment information as well as the job description.

Sweet! Just what I always wanted - to a) be a drug dealer, b) give all of my personal and financial information to someone I don't know who resides in Nigeria but has internet access, c) be a hippie living in a commune, or d) give out my phone number to creepy dudes on the internet.

The devil's own coffee.

Starbucks SKU # 666 corresponds to one pound of Italian Roast.

I found this particularly interesting for a few reasons:

-Italian Roast is one of our more darkly roasted coffees. In other words, the beans spend more time in the fire. Fitting for one whose time is spent in the vast pits of flames believed to fill Hell.
-Dante Alighieri, whose personal interpretation of the devil, as shared in his Inferno, is a commonly accepted portrait of the one called Satan, was Italian. Florentine, to be exact.
-Rome, the seat of the Pope and the heart of Catholicism as well as Christianity, is in Italy. I need not elaborate on this irony.

These are all of the connections I can make at this time. Italian Roast being a coffee of high intensity, intricate boldness, and decadent sweetness (compared to the smokiness of French Roast), it seems an appropriate choice for Lucifer.

Life lessons: red, red wine.

Saturday night, I pulled out the Casillero Del Diablo wine I bought from Blanchard's. The Cabernet Sauvignon was a good buy - about $10 if I remember correctly, and flavorful without being overwhelming, full-bodied without being punchy, with a light oak background. For my first foray into the world of Chilean wine, I was quite pleased.

So anyway, Saturday night, I'm in bed, reading and drinking a glass of red wine. I guess I fell asleep at some point, but in the throes of some nightmare, I seized while waking up and knocked the glass of red wine off of my bedside table and into my bed. All over my favorite sheets that I've had since freshman year of college.

If that doesn't wake you up fast, I don't know what will.

In a 4 AM stupor, I somehow realized that the best course of action was to get the sheets off of my bed as soon as possible and get them into the washer. I would have liked to let them soak all night, but 30 minutes was the maximum. So I soaked them with Tide, then ran a full washing load a few hours later. I was quite pleased with myself when I pulled the sheets from the machine and they were almost completely free of stains.

I was not so pleased with myself, however, when I glanced into the full-length mirror on my bedroom door on my way to take a shower before work. In case you were not aware, red wine stains your skin, and considering I was laying on my back when the glass spilled all over the bed, I now bore purplish stains that literally covered the entire back side of my body, from my neck to my calves. The shower I took then didn't help, and it took several more to get all of the stains off.

So if you do happen to take an accidental bath in red wine, get any clothes or sheets directly into the washing machine... and remember to at least rinse yourself off.

This part of my life is called working harder.

In hot pursuit of happiness, I have made a choice that is... there's no other way to say this: ballsy. I hardly even recognize myself because I don't usually do things this ballsy. Inspired by the ballsy nature of the decision, I very nearly - on the spot - called a guy in whom I am interested to ask him out. I was hindered by the fact that I deleted his phone number from my phone some weeks ago.

So, what is this happiness I am pursuing? How do I personally define it? Happiness is different for everyone, I think. If I'm going to be putting serious effort into capturing it, making it mine, I sure as hell had better know what it looks and feels like, so I have a target. It looks like madness, with a method, always. It feels like my heart swelling with all things good in appropriate amounts. It is a pancake breakfast filled with laughter with my roommates. It is working hard, but not excessively. It is a smile that shows in my eyes. It is a cute dog on a leash that I hold. It is waves crashing on a beach while I watch from the warm sand. It is a hot cup of quality coffee early in the day. It is a college degree in my hands. It is enough money in my bank account so that I don't have to worry too much about bills. It is a job I enjoy that puts that money in my bank account. It is reaching my dreams in this lifetime. It is me, in Texas. It is a hug from my mother.

How do I get there from here? Well, to start, I need to be saving money. A lot of it. Money doesn't buy you happiness, but unfortunately, happiness does cost money. College degrees aren't cheap, and neither is moving across the country. Can I make it in Boston? Yes. I am not homeless, not hungry, and not insane. Do I want to be here that much longer? No. I am a Texan to the core, and it's difficult for me to be in a place like this. I don't know how long it will take me to get out of here - it could be 9 months, it could be a couple of years - but this decision should accelerate the process.

This is going to be the hardest I've ever worked. Harder than this past fall, when I averaged 60-65 hours a week. Harder than almost two years ago, when I averaged 75-80 hours a week. Harder than full-time school on top of full-time work. This is full-time work, on top of full-time work, with intensive training. In order to excel at both places, I will be doing homework and research whenever I'm not at work. Oh, and I still have to eat, sleep, wash my clothes, and run errands.

If this all goes through, and I hope it does, I have a couple of weeks to get organized. This basically means that I need to get my eating habits under control - so actually eating every now and then - and get my room together, organized, clean. Get my bed put together. Get my desk properly set up to accommodate plenty of books, papers, and whatever else applies. I need to cultivate habits to encourage consistent patterns of taking good care of myself without having the time to think about it. I need to set a schedule for myself. I need to actually use the planner I got.

I do love to work hard. When I don't take good care of myself, I can't work hard. I'm kind of taking a big risk here. It's a big investment of time and energy. I'm going to have to work hard just to set myself up for success well enough so that I can get up every day to bust my own ass. So I guess this part of my life is called working harder.

Positivity.

When did I get so serious? Not to mention so depressed, and so depressing... The more I read over that last post, the more I realize I am being torn apart by the conditions of my life. I used to be so happy. Anyway... I'm going to try and focus on the positive things in my life. I used to be so good at keeping myself happy. So, a list of things that make me happy, even here:

-The first sip of the first cup of hot coffee each day.
-Having sand in my shoes.
-Absolute silence on the Cape.
-The combined smells of my shampoo, conditioner, face wash, and body wash.
-Gorgeous fall foliage.
-Crawling into bed between freshly laundered sheets.
-8:16 AM, my favorite time of day.
-Bad, and I mean awful, jokes. Puns.
-Running in Brookline.
-Pirates.
-My hair.
-Cooking something new.
-Smiles from strangers.
-Watching clouds and stars through the skylight over my bed.
-Hearing my phone start playing John Mayer's "Daughters" - which means a family member is calling.
-The moment when I put on my tie and my black apron each day, and clip a Sharpie to the top of my apron.
-The smell of my freshly baked brownies.

Misery loves company.

The manager I was working with tonight at Chipotle let it slip that I get moody starting between 7 and 8 PM and stay that way for the rest of the night. He said all of the managers had noticed it (no one had said anything to me), and while I had also noticed I am more and more frustrated starting around then lasting through close, it is moderately embarrassing that everyone has noticed it, talked about it behind my back, and refused to say anything to my face.

7 or 8 PM:
-Everyone else on the floor has taken a break. I will be the last person to take a break, around 8:30 or 9. Meanwhile, if I stand still for any period of time, or try to take a quick 5-minute break, someone starts yelling at me to ring up a transaction, check the lobby, collect baskets, watch the line for them, etc. And they wonder why those of us who are trained on cash hate being the shift cashier...
-The dinner rush has just ended, or will be ending soon. I'm sick of people telling me "no" when I ask for sides of salsa or guac, and I'm cataloging in my mind how many times I or the line screwed up on customer service. I'm also just sick of seeing people and doing the exact same thing hundreds of times.
-By this time, most times I'm working at Chipotle, I've been awake since around 4 AM, and I have worked around 12 hours so far that day.
-I'm starting to think about the rest of the night, which means anticipating having to clean bathrooms (my least favorite thing ever), and cleaning up the lobby after the dinner rush, so running around sweeping, wiping tables, cleaning baskets, filling ice, stocking the drink station, and ringing up every customer.
-I'm also starting to think about going home, which includes crying throughout the 20-minute drive home as I remember that I won't see my family for months and am, for the most part, very alone here. It also means I start calculating how much sleep I will get, which is usually 4-5 hours, maximum.

So yeah... not that those are excuses... I am usually a nice person. But there are valid reasons for my apparent bitchy-ness. More importantly, the fact that this is showing, when I'm a naturally happy person, means more than just me being bitchy sometimes. It means I am really that miserable. It has been six months since I saw my father and sister, and eight months since I saw my mother - and that time was only for an hour. My dog is dying, and I am not there to spend time with her as her energy fades. I hate the taxes I pay in this state, and I hate knowing that they will probably go up. I hate knowing that as hard as I work, I earn very little money. I am frustrated by the knowledge that I work my tail off - often on little or no food, because I can't afford more - and it doesn't seem to make a difference or garner much respect from anyone. When did hard work lose its value? I hate how mean people are here and the fact that everyone seems to think that's okay. I hate that I can't afford some important things, like body work, new brake pads, and new tires for my car. I am sick more often than not. I don't have many friends; the ones I do have don't have much time for me. I am finding less and less willpower to go into work and give great service for eight hours when I know there will be at least one or two people who will flip out on me over something, whether it's the wait time on a drink, the quality of brewed coffee, or the length of the line.

Seriously, how do you people live like this? How are all of you so miserable all of the time, and why are you so anxious to spread it around? How many times do you have to shove me down to make yourself feel better?

What is more frustrating than anything else is that the whole reason I'm still here is that I believe the managers in my Starbucks district are more devoted to my development than any managers for whom I have worked. And yet... because I work 70 hours a week, I can't take advantage of this opportunity like I could if I just had one job. But if I just had one job, I couldn't pay bills in order to stay here and take advantage of the opportunity. Getting to the point where I will be promoted to the next level while I work 70 hours a week seems like some Sisyphean task God put in front of me to make me want to kill myself. I've been working 70 hours a week for three months, and I can't imagine continuing like this for nine more months while I watch myself utterly fail at trying to be a good, well-developed Starbucks manager. With recognition being rare and the wages I get paid, I have never felt so worthless in my life.

I'm not sure how or why I keep going. I just do.

Back in black!

I am proud to announce that as of Wednesday, October 15, 2008, I have a Coffee Master's black apron that I am now permitted to wear, as I have been deemed a Coffee Master by my regional director. Actually, to be exact, I own HER black apron. She was impressed with my coffee tasting, and after I asked why it was so hard to get a black apron, she gave me hers. Someone who has been with the company for fourteen years was that impressed.

If I had known she was going to sit in on that tasting, I would have had time to work up some nervousness. But... I didn't know... so I just said and did what came naturally to me... and she loved it.

My next challenge shall be... blind coffee tastings. Which coffee is which? Can I tell the differences between coffees of two different regions without knowing which is which? Can I tell the differences between coffees of the same region without knowing which is which? I know I can lead a coffee tasting and rock it with my coffee knowledge. Now, let's see how well I really know those coffees.

Wearing that apron for the first time this morning was very exciting. The thought of it actually got me out of bed on time. I was so excited about it last night that I had a hard time sleeping. Like a little kid on Christmas Eve.

I'm telling you... this is the start of something big.

Singing baristas!

So, Sunday at Starbucks was a little insane. Okay... we got massacred. Seth started throwing up and had to go home, and the line just got longer and longer. I was working the bar, experiencing a bit of a throwback to my days at the downtown store. I reached my barista zenith there, sometime during the colder months. I remember barring by myself on a Sunday, and Dave Matthews Band music was playing, and it was like everything slowed down enough that I could just kind of watch my hands working. Time slowed down, and I was going insanely fast. Almost everything I was doing was automatic. Nonstop line for hours, nonstop line of drinks for hours. I miss that.

Anyway. By the time Zoe came in, we were still busy, but it was slowing a little. At that point, the other Diana, Gail, and I were losing our minds a little. So... I started singing. Then, Zoe joined in. Then, Gail joined in. We went through an entire Beatles set, to Alanis Morissette, the Pretenders, Prince... we finished with "Take Me Out to the Ballgame." Then, I threw up, so I left.

A customer on Monday morning who had been in on Sunday approached me and started to say something about Sunday. I immediately apologized, saying we'd gotten slammed, were understaffed, and started to go a little nutty. Her reaction was, "No, it was great, I loved it! You were singing some of my favorite Beatles songs!"

Really??

Zoe and I don't have the greatest voices, but it helped lighten the mood, and we were having fun... so we're going to make this a regular thing. Singing baristas when we work together. We're building a list of songs now, with lots of the Beatles, Prince, even the Talking Heads ("Psycho killer, qu'est-ce que c'est?"). So, um... come see the singing baristas. And get a Clover.

Life at one thousand miles per hour.

I realized how fast things are passing me by today. I can't believe it's already almost October, and I haven't taken a real vacation in ages. I've worked 42 consecutive days as of tonight. It doesn't look like I will have a vacation until January, maybe February, and who wants to take a vacation then? I can't afford to go anywhere tropical.

It seems like every minute I'm not working, I'm doing something for work, or I'm moving heavy stuff, like furniture and boxes. I can't believe my hair is already in need of a haircut again. I can't afford one anyway. I don't remember the last time I actually did my hair; I've been just washing it and then running out the door for months now. Somehow, it looks nice most of the time. My body has gotten into the annoying habit of aching really badly every time I move a limb later in the day, which is seriously slowing me down at work. I'm starting to wonder if the way I schedule myself makes me slightly masochistic. If I could have anything, I would just ask for a hug from each of my parents and my sister. I'd kill to be ten years old again, with my mother yelling at me to finish my milk at the dinner table while I feed things to the waiting dog under the table. Things I want to keep up with - world news, reading, cleaning my room, having clean clothes - have fallen by the wayside. I never feel like I have time to think anymore. One of these days, I'm really, truly going to have some time off, and all of the things that have been stuck in some corner of my mind are going to hit me all at once. Like driving too fast and then hitting the brakes hard, an ugly pileup of cars that is an insurance adjustor's nightmare. Like a ton of bricks.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to make these great strides toward moving forward with Starbucks, and the extra work is eating up what little time I have to myself. I can't believe someone who had never had regular coffee before working for Starbucks now has her arms wrapped so tightly around a coffee company and its whole bean offerings that the smell of unadulterated coffee beans is a huge comfort that soothes my tired mind. It's the first thing I notice when I walk into my room. I don't know that the me of 7 years ago - about when I first became a Starbucks customer - would recognize me now at all. Coffee addict/connoisseur, workaholic.

I'd better get to sleep. I need to be up for my first cup of the day in five hours, and ready to serve a thousand cups in six hours.

Why bother?

The title of this post takes me back to Highland Park Village, working at Starbucks, watching Dragan shrug and ask, "Why bother?" any time anyone ordered something with no fat, no sugar, and no caffeine - like a decaf tall sugar free vanilla nonfat latte, or a decaf tall nonfat no whip no foam mocha, or something like that. I guess his point was, if you're not going to do anything fun with it or depend on it for a spark, then why bother spending the $3-4? Beats me. I drink caffeinated black coffee like it's water.

But the "Why bother?" here refers to my complete lack of purpose, especially in New England. If someone here giving a shit about me at all is the caffeine in my beverage, making enough to support myself and pay bills is the whipped cream on top. Unfortunately, I have neither, and as I go through the daily grind (pun intended), I can't help but ask myself why I'm still in Boston or alive at all. Why do I work so hard when it isn't enough anyway? Why do I try to be conscientious at work when the people who will benefit from it snap at me? Why do I even leave the house when my chances of meeting anyone - literally anyone - nice are slim? Why do I do people favors when I know I can't get one in return? Why bother?

I am so tired of being snapped at, yelled at, and told "no." One of these days, I'm going to have had enough, and I'll give up. I just won't show at work, and I'll be gone.

My laptop lives again!

...Though I have to say, I didn't miss being online much. Really, I only missed it the couple of times I needed driving directions and then, the night I figured out I didn't have a country CD anywhere in my book of CDs in my car, and I really wanted to come home and burn a new one. So, I'm taking some time now to catch up on e-mail (yeah, 800 new e-mails, it's going to take a while) and facebook (while listening to Amarillo By Morning and Texas On My Mind, of course).

A lot has happened lately, but I don't think I'll get around to talking about any of it. I haven't had much time to process the craziness that is my life right now. I work 70ish hours a week and spend whatever remains of my time sleeping or doing laundry. I went for a drive late last night after work to give myself time to think. It reminded me of the times I used to drive down Preston Road in Dallas, from my Starbucks in Highland Park all the way out to Celina, past the creepy graveyard and closed gas station. Unfortunately, the territory was foreign, not familiar, so it was not as relaxing as it would have been had I been on State Highway 289 in my beloved state of Texas.

Really, I miss Texas, and all of the Texans I love. I'm tired of being alone. Work at Starbucks has been going fine, but I have utterly failed at meeting people outside of work. I'm not used to having to try so hard. I will be coming home for one of the major holidays (I haven't decided which yet; all I know is I've been told I can take one holiday, and the Starbucks that hired me has offered to take me in while I'm home). I hope I make it that far. Life isn't easy right now, and it seems like it's just getting harder.

Other things to look forward to this fall... my Starbucks anniversary is December 4th, so I will be hosting some sort of dinner. The Head of the Charles is coming up, and I will be flying my mother up for either that weekend or the one right after. Hopefully, I will have furniture by then. Ha. But really, it would be nice to get off of this air mattress.

Well, I guess that's it for now. Hopefully, things will get better, and I'll feel like eating again. At least I now have a working computer again.

Brownie mania!

I love to bake.

It's very therapeutic. It is very similar to cooking, but is more simple. So, I do a ton of it when I have a day off. Last weekend, I baked a total of 120 brownies, and delivered them to several different locations - Brookline fire stations, Starbucks locations in my district, and even the Chipotle where I know a good portion of the crew.

There's a secret recipe involved. They are delicious. Aaron at the Dedham Chipotle described them as "chocolatey wow". They go well with Paulaner Heifeweizen.

I have taken them to five Brookline fire stations (1, 4, 5, 6, 7), six Starbucks locations, and the Chipotle in Dedham. If you are a partner or a firefighter in the area and want my brownies delivered to your store or station, leave a comment with the location, and if it's within a reasonable distance, I will add it to my list. I have twelve locations on the list now; I try to hit about eight of them each week, between the two days I have off each week, which may or may not shift. I bake between 40 and 80 in each session; 10 brownies go to each location.

There is no charge. There are two requirements: 1) you and your colleagues must be willing and able to eat all brownies before they expire (I would hate for them to go to waste) and 2) anyone with allergies to milk, wheat, or soy products must refrain from consuming the brownies.