Because I'm a follower

I saw this on Tiffany's site and thought it would be fun. I'm very excited about Lauren Graham.

Cakes, cakes, and more cakes...

Princess Cookie
Josh's Birthday
"Da Bears"
Christmas Fondant
Elena's First Birthday
Soccer cake & cookie
Pirate Ship

More Cakes

Happy Face
Power Ranger
Winnie the Pooh
Wrigley Side 1
Wrigley Side 2
Wrigley Side 3

Finality

Here are the pictures of my final cake for my final class in my final course. I am pretty pleased with how it turned out.

View 1
View 2

18th of April

For those of you may not have noticed, the 18th of April passed this weekend. This day has particular memories for me and although I meant to record this on that specific day, the craziness of this week did not allow it and I proceed now.

Seems like every year my family's spring break consisted of going to visit my grandparents in Florida. Since spring break was around the same time each year, the 18th of April would fall during this week. We would be sitting around the table at dinner and my Grandad would inquire, "WifeofLogic, do you know what today is?" Of course, I would not know (since we were on vacation) and he would reply, "Listen my children and you will hear, of the midnight ride of Paul Revere. On the 18th of April in '75, hardly a man is still alive who remembers that famous day and year." Coming across a printed pamphlet in the North Church gift shop in Boston, a few years after the tradition started, I took it upon myself to try and memorize this honorable poem of Longfellow's and while I have fallen short in memorizing the entire thing, I pen it for you here in case you care to aspire.

Paul Revere's Ride

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.

He said to his friend, "If the British march
By land or sea from the town to-night,
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
Of the North Church tower as a signal light,--
One if by land, and two if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middlesex village and farm,
For the country folk to be up and to arm."

Then he said "Good-night!" and with muffled oar
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where swinging wide at her moorings lay
The Somerset, British man-of-war;
A phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Across the moon like a prison bar,
And a huge black hulk, that was magnified
By its own reflection in the tide.

Meanwhile, his friend through alley and street
Wanders and watches, with eager ears,
Till in the silence around him he hears
The muster of men at the barrack door
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
And the measured tread of the grenadiers,
Marching down to their boats on the shore.

Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church,
By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry chamber overhead,
And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the sombre rafters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade,--
By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
To the highest window in the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town
And the moonlight flowing over all.

Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,
In their night encampment on the hill,
Wrapped in silence so deep and still
That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread,
The watchful night-wind, as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"
A moment only he feels the spell
Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread
Of the lonely belfry and the dead;
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
On a shadowy something far away,
Where the river widens to meet the bay,--
A line of black that bends and floats
On the rising tide like a bridge of boats.

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
Now he patted his horse's side,
Now he gazed at the landscape far and near,
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,
And turned and tightened his saddle girth;
But mostly he watched with eager search
The belfry tower of the Old North Church,
As it rose above the graves on the hill,
Lonely and spectral and sombre and still.
And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
A second lamp in the belfry burns.

A hurry of hoofs in a village street,
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet;
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
The fate of a nation was riding that night;
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
Kindled the land into flame with its heat.
He has left the village and mounted the steep,
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
And under the alders that skirt its edge,
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.

It was twelve by the village clock
When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.
He heard the crowing of the cock,
And the barking of the farmer's dog,
And felt the damp of the river fog,
That rises after the sun goes down.

It was one by the village clock,
When he galloped into Lexington.
He saw the gilded weathercock
Swim in the moonlight as he passed,
And the meeting-house windows, black and bare,
Gaze at him with a spectral glare,
As if they already stood aghast
At the bloody work they would look upon.

It was two by the village clock,
When he came to the bridge in Concord town.
He heard the bleating of the flock,
And the twitter of birds among the trees,
And felt the breath of the morning breeze
Blowing over the meadow brown.
And one was safe and asleep in his bed
Who at the bridge would be first to fall,
Who that day would be lying dead,
Pierced by a British musket ball.

You know the rest. In the books you have read
How the British Regulars fired and fled,---
How the farmers gave them ball for ball,
From behind each fence and farmyard wall,
Chasing the redcoats down the lane,
Then crossing the fields to emerge again
Under the trees at the turn of the road,
And only pausing to fire and load.

So through the night rode Paul Revere;
And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every Middlesex village and farm,---
A cry of defiance, and not of fear,
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo for evermore!
For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
Through all our history, to the last,
In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,
And the midnight message of Paul Revere.

Fondant

We have a little friend who comes to our house a few times a week to eat dinner and play with us while his parents watch TV with us. He is a very imaginative boy and really loves playing with D's dart guns. He calls the darts "coins" which really confused us for a very long time. Last night he was drinking from his mom's water and after he had given back the glass, tripped over her feet and fell on his bottom pretty hard. We all (including him) laughed very hard. He laughed so hard he started coughing and coughed up some of the water and an ice cube (which was gross at all and was even more funny). He continued to laugh and then suddenly burst into tears. He cried very hard for 5 minutes and we determined that he had suddenly been embarrassed by all of our laughter and especially mine since it is so loud at times. After we got him calmed down we went downstairs and he wanted to look at the cake. I told him I needed a picture of the cake and did he want to be in the picture. He said he did and as I put the camera on him he gave me a big grin, but then it vanished just as the picture was being taken. I thought it was a really funny picture and would share it with all of you so you could see (although a poor representation) of our little friend.

Here is my fondant cake. D is very disappointed that Fondant isn't very edible.

Happy St. Patricks Day!!! (a little early)

I have made a shamrock cake even though Hobby Lobby didn't have the shamrock cake pan. (My first one didn't turn out like this one). D and I also received our Cubs Hats. And are already for the big green day!!

Cakes

D and I were talking about passions and hobbies. He has many hobbies: developing and building things from computer programs to legos; video games; and grilling to name a few. I on the other hand do not have many hobbies. I have knitted, crocheted, cross-stitched and tried a number of other "girlish" hobbies. But this January I discovered a hobby that I really enjoy doing - decorating cakes! I started a cake decorating class and I love it. Below are some of my latest creations (all the Cubs ones were for D's birthday.) Click the links to see the pictures.
Cubs Baseball Logo
Cubs Uniform
Spring is coming
Get Well Soon
Super Bowl
Good Luck
Happy Birthday
Flower Basket
Spiderman