Hey! My Mom is a Gazillion!

Hey! It’s my Mom’s Birthday!

Happy Birthday Mom!Don’t ask me how old she is, I think she is a gazillion. Don’t be giving me THAT look! This is what she tells people so they say to her “You look FABULOUS for a Gazillion! How do you do it?” She twitters back all flattered and replies, “oh stop…it’s just good genes.” It’s true, her mom and sister look fabulous too.

I had my parents over for dinner on Saturday night to celebrate mom’s Gazillonth birthday. I made Thai Chicken and Birthday Cup Cakes. Why thank you! I am her favorite daughter…how did you know?

I often brag about my baking skills because, who are we kidding, I am an awesome baker! Except I have a tiny confession. I have never made Cup Cakes from scratch. I have made them from a mix, I make cookies and squares from scratch, heck, I have even baked a cake or 3000 from scratch. But never cup cakes.

I figured this would be a great thing to add to my 52 new things list so away I went.

I googled a cup cake recipe that required cake and pastry flour. Again something I have never used. I mix all the ingredients and the batter is thick like cookie dough….WARNING WARNING! I am not green enough to think this is okay. I know cake batter should be runny, not stiff. I rechecked the ingredients and everything was correct. Hmmmm now I’m worried.

I decided I would leave the batter as is and continue to follow the directions. All bakers know that baking is kitchen science, so messing with amounts usually – not always…no hate mail please – can create an odd result.

I did add my own flair to the tiny cakes. I stuffed each cake with a tiny Lindor chocolate.While these were baking and cooling, I made the butter cream icing.

Now, you can ask ANY woman whats in her freezer. Any gal worth her salt will have a tub of icing, cookie dough or ice cream in her freezer. The best gals have all three. Sadly…since I have got on this new Lifestyle kick…I have none of the above. Well that is not entirely true, I keep the Boy’s favorite ice cream in there. He is almost 16 and truthfully, the container is almost ALWAYS empty…so that doesn’t count.

I was the girl who Loooooooooooooved icing. Any flavour, any brand but have a weakness for homemade icing. It is simple to make. Butter (the real stuff) Icing sugar, vanilla and milk or cream. Yum yum yum…or so I thought…

Something very concerning has happened to me. I am quite worried actually. I licked the beater and ewwwwwwwwwwww.

All I could taste was butter. It was the actual correct taste, but to me it was just butter. Then I thought “Gross, butter and sugar. Who thought THAT was a good idea?” Good right?

Then I iced the cupcakes.

I made the mistake of inviting my sister over for cake. She is the Cake Baker extraordinaire. I want to hate her, I really do. But…she is to nice and too fabulous. I just can’t.

As with my entire family, everyone was really supportive. “Oh Robyn this is soooooo gooood” Are you kidding me? You big fat liars! The cake is DRY and the icing tastes like butter. This thing is disgusting! The only redeeming feature was the chocolate nestled inside.


My brother did nothing, I win again!

Happy Birthday Mom!


Hi I’m Julie McCoy, and I’ll be your Ship’s Cruise Director!

The Love Boat
Image via Wikipedia

I have spent the better part of my Sunday engaged in homework for my University Course. I was at work long before the offspring decided to emerge from their warm cozy beds at the first sign of breakfast. By time Offspring #2 said good morning, I had completed 2 of 4 minor assignments,with research and reading still needing to be done for the day. The first thing out of her mouth was “So, what are we doing today?” I almost growled “homework” but the sound was much more civil than a growl. A large sigh emerged from her lips and she sat down to visit her friends via Facebook.

Flashes of my youth appeared before my eyes. The ages of One to Four of my life are remembered as “shhhh your dad is studying”. I remember Dad hiding away in the deep dungeon of a basement, surrounded by concrete walls, one insignificant window and the smell of damp basement. In the corner opposite the stairs, sat his desk, comfortable office chair and a desk lamp,with a view of the washer and dryer. Those were the days of typewriters, pens and paper. After dinner, I would sneak to the top of the stairs and peer through the railing to spy on my dad. Mostly to see if he was actually busy, but perfectly happy just to get a glimpse of him. On days that he was at the library, my brother and I would sneak down and sit in THE CHAIR. We would take turns spinning each other and giggling ourselves into dizzy oblivion. We could not imagine our Dad to be so lucky as to have this chair to sit in for hours on end.

In contrast, I am luckier I suppose. I am also located in the basement but my walls are dry-walled and painted White Chocolate. The light streaming in is from large windows in a “walk-out” basement. The floors are cork and possess in-floor heating. Over my work space is a rather large map of Disneyland that I look at from time to time to gain inspiration from all those creative spirits before me. I am thankful for the good fortunes that have afforded me these luxuries compared to my father’s study hall.

Friday Nights were designated as Family Night. Dad would emerge from the dungeon ready for a break. Our family would go in search of inexpensive and free things to do. I often remember going for drives through Millcreek with the final destination being Dairy Queen. My brother and I would be bathed and dressed in our pajamas. We would pile into the car either with my Grandparents or just are small family. Off to our destination we would go leaving the ‘burbs headed for the city. In those days, the Dairy Queen was just an ice cream stand. It was a seasonal shop where you waited in line outside. My brother and I would order a soft serve dipped cone, my mom would often get a small marshmallow sundae and my father, without fail, would order a butterscotch milkshake. We would take the scenic route home, driving around looking at people’s homes or beautiful gardens. Usually we were asleep before the car was parked for the night with mom and dad carrying us up to bed. Sleeping or not, we would fake it to get the lift to our rooms.

I loved the undivided attention of my parents. So does the Chatterbox. She often is seeking parental attention of some form. You can often hear her say “So, what are we doing today?” As if I am the Omnipotent Being responsible for her personal entertainment. She often makes me feel like I should have been born Julie McCoy, Love Boat’s Cruise Director.

Yesterday, the Chatterbox and I went in search of clothing specific to our impending trip to Europe. We spent the better part of the afternoon laughing and looking for items that would make our stay more comfortable. While walking through Edmonton’s historical district of Old Strathcona, we stumbled upon The Walterdale Playhouse Open House. Immediately she led me through the doors knowing I would follow. We were given a tour of the main-stage and back stage. Shown how they magically transform plain people into characters that fill your imagination. Shown how they use paint and light to create elaborate illusions of grandeur. The Walterdale Playhouse is located in the old fire hall and still maintains the bell tower. 10 minutes before each production the bell is rung, signaling the need for patrons to find their seats. Chatterbox was given the opportunity to ring the bell high above Old Strathcona, telling the community that she was indeed ready to be an actress. We left armed with information of upcoming auditions, tips and a sense that we really enjoyed our time spent there as well as with each other. Our day was far from over, but the Walterdale Playhouse did enhance the rest of our experience together. We found shoes, drank ice tea at Starbucks, took crazy self-portraits together. The moments that were memorable, were unplanned. Just like Friday nights to Dairy Queen when Dad would burst into song and sing the Tennessee Bird Walk, or my brother would tell a funny story about the trouble he got into that day.

I need to remember the importance of Julie McCoy. I need to keep scheduling family time together so we can create more memorable moments as a family. I can do that. I can take a night or a day off every week to have family time. Lesson learned Mom and Dad! Thank you again for being spectacular role models that taught me everything I needed to know about being a great mom.

You can always find time to do what matters most.