I am the chef, chauffeur, housekeeper, laundress, advocate, postal worker, Momma Bear as needed, teachers' aide for any number of teachers, a contributor for an online magazine, a book reviewer, college course counselor, motivational speaker for the monsters and the Daddy, comedienne, disciplinarian, and administrative assistant to the fam. But nowhere, in the description of all those jobs, does it tell me who *I* am. Me. Caryn. The..... person. And that's where I'm stuck.
I don't mean this in some deep, spiritual, religious way. I mean, I can't even tell someone what I like. I don't know what my favorite flavor, color, scent, book... whatever... is. I really don't. I don't know if I'm "good enough" to keep writing. I don't know if I have any extraordinary talents that define me. I just don't know.. me. And I have to tell ya; it's a little difficult to keep things together on the outside when the inside is so conflicted.
So, I'll apologize now for using my blog as a therapist for the day, while I attempt to muddle through.
But... again. That gets me no closer to finding out who *I* am. So here's what I have figured out. I am a rockin' awesome baker. This is not bragging. This is a fact. I'm sorry.. I know it sounds shallow, but it's true. If you are my friend on facebook, I apologize for the quantity of mouth watering pictures of baked goods on my timeline. But there's a little part of me that feels like I've accomplished greatness when I take something glorious out of the oven. And also? I feel calm when I bake. I feel like everything is okay, and whatever things are stressing me out at the time can be overcome. The more intricate the recipe, the more stressed out I am. Thus, the caramel apple cinnamon rolls that appeared on my timeline last week. Therapy through flour and wire whisk. That's my thing. Does baking "define" me?
I lust over KitchenAid mixers in catalogs (because I don't have a mixer at all, and I do everything literally by hand). I drool over cute little muffin tins, bundt pans, and painfully expensive pure vanilla. If I could have anything I wanted, I would have a Bosch mixer/blender/food processor. And.. let's be honest.. I'd also be able to eat anything I make without gaining an ounce. It's kinda sad, really.. because I'm happiest when I'm creaming together butter and sugar, or making cookies with the twinnies. I feel fulfilled when the fam rolls their eyes in flavor nirvana and asks for more. I am absolutely giddy when people beg me to stop posting food pics because their keyboard/monitor/phone is beginning to malfunction , because they have drooled all over it a few too many times.
Yes, yes. You know I'll share some of these cruel pics from my timeline with you. After all.. I kind of HAVE to now, don't I? Just be glad I don't text y'all. You'd block me and my pic messages. Seriously.
Ok. Therapy over. Time to drool.
|Fresh Strawberry pie and cream|
|Ham and Cheese Potato soup|
|Chocolate Double Shot flourless|
cake with vanilla bean ice cream
and fresh raspberry sauce
|Peach Cobbler with vanilla bean ice cream|
|5 Grain Bread|
|Gingerbread/Egg Nog bread pudding|