Confessions Of: A Wanna Be Baker

Confessions of a wanna-be-baker:


…mouth-watering. chocolate chip cookie dough brownies-both made from scratch

             “you can’t buy happiness. but you can buy make cupcakes. and that’s
kind of the same thing.”

This life according to Lu, my ambition to be a baker.

I’m an anomaly. While most young girls’ life ambition/adulthood consists of cliched answers like ballerinas or mothers, even school teachers, without fail, I picked the humble profession of farmer (pronounced “FAH-MA.” Ugh r’s were impossible). I envisioned life playing with the cutest of animals, (read cows, chickens, horses, ranch dogs) surrounded solely by nature and wearing a plethora of overalls & plaid.

Always loved animals.

Always loved animals.

Eventually, said dream morphed into becoming a writer or novelist and has yet to re-alter. I love words, the ability to create an image by stringing together diction–carefully debating which syllables complement each other and which can fully convey the thoughts inside my head. I’m easily inspired and for some odd reason, feel as though I have a story to tell…with a passion for photography on the side.

Writing+animals = progress

Writing+animals = progress

Like I said, such is my dream, but secretly, I want to be a baker. It should come as no surprise–though perhaps, we aren’t that well acquainted–chocolate is my kryptonite. Whoever said “nothing tastes as good as skinny feels” clearly never OD’d on cookie dough, tasted a brigadeiro, or spent Christmas at my house, in which we (and by we I mean I) bake easily a dozen different cookie flavors–sugar, peanut butter blossoms and fudge are staples, the rest are up for debate. (Cake box cookies, thumbprints, snickerdoodle, red velvet, gingerbread, chocolate chip, turtle, crinkles)



I can spend hours perusing baking blogs to search for a new recipe. Recently, I baked banana bread, in which I carefully argued a cinnamon crust or a peanut butter chocolate chip. Ultimately I went back to basics: everything tastes better with peanut butter.



Now, with the arrival of Easter, I am thoroughly browsing blondies, pizzokies, brownies and cookie recipes, to decide what to bake with my purchase of Easter theme M&M’s. (I clearly purchased regular and the PB filled). I am insanely jealous of baking bloggers who have turned their career into their hobby (I’m talking to you Sally’s Baking Addiction), altering recipes and experimenting with foods–the way I examine words and sounds. Like this peek-a-boo cake I made last fall:



Anything I bake is homemade. Screw mixes and pre-made doughs! That baby was quite the beast, a pound cake with a pumpkin bread inside and a sweet frosting. Does anyone else frequently dream of chocolate chips or is this just a problem of a wanna-be-baker? Sigh.

Can't get you out of my head.

Can’t get you out of my head.



Confessions Of: An April Fools Day Hater.

Confessions of: An April Fools Day Hater.
198220_1010315864206_9456_n           “What if April Fools Day doesn’t exist and its been the longest prank in

This Life According to Lu, should be April Fools Day-less

There’s an art to mastering the practical joke and to be victorious timing is of the essence.(Right, Kristi?) Which is why I detest April Fools Day. Rather than an opportunity to perform an original act of comedy, it is instead a day designated for the ingenious folk whose failed attempt at humor relies on a specified date to achieve said plight. The true commanders of their craft are capable of executing tricks in unforeseen timing and ostensible spontaneity. And so, to the conventional souls who rely on tasteless wit & an ever-so-boring labelled day: you have floundered at being amusing and have only triumphed in utter annoyance.

Historically, in the life of Lu, this day has become a staple of inconsistency and connotes capricious life-changing events.Although, I still commend my older sister and her ability to anger my dad to such an extent he stopped watching the madness that is March basketball (an ironic detail considering it was April). Her well-contrived prank began with a tiny halter shirt, a belly-button ring stud and a casual strut past the television. “TAKE THAT OUT RIGHT NOW,” he screamed in such a terrifying manner the joke lost much of its humor, and we were all deluged with a paralyzing fear, thus the two little words “April fools!” lost quite their well-intentioned, naive, core fun.

To this day I remember it, the exact moment (see what I mean about the crucial detail that is timing) we we’re Eastering in Ponte Vedra Beach, FL, playing trivial games on my grandma’s carpet, waiting for our parents to return with chocolate milk, a dozen donuts (for me) and bagels (for Chels and Tis). Ah, nostalgia, for a simpler time pre-coffee addiction when calories didn’t exist and I could casually eat 6 donuts before noon without gaining an ounce and yet still manage to be starving for lunchtime. When my biggest concern having to put on sunscreen before swimming and whether I preferred a sugar or chocolate chip cookie.

Playtime interrupted for breakfast, hooray! Only not so fast…

We’re moving to China! 

Ha, you got us, guys, good one, April Fools. 

Except it wasn’t. A revolutionary twist on the cliched holiday. An admirable, original approach to the dull day.

Because we did move to China. Every other attempt at a practical joke on 4/1 will forever seem obsolete. My parents laughed and laughed at our inability to accept said truth as fact, until the second, when the craziest practical joke didn’t fade into the sunset with the inception of April, but instead lingered in the April air, like a rain cloud that can’t decide where to pour

Seven years ago today, my neighbor in Germany sat outside on our stoop, our homes connected into one gigantic mansion, he smoked a cigarette, casually, in jeans and a blue sweater when he proceeded to walk downstairs and rest momentarily in our shared garden. His wife, watching him, lovingly from the kitchen window. I was upstairs in my pj’s, playing on my computer, my mom was reading in her bedroom, while Kristi sat with her back to the garden, in our living room. And that’s when he blew his brains out. He looked like a fallen garden gnome in the grass, I will never forget it. Especially the sound of the gun, my mom thought a madman was outside trying to murder us, the shrieking of his wife’s cry, a moment I will never be able to stomach.

No one believed us. April Fools. As if suicide was some sick, funny subject to joke about.

And so much in the way Chandler (always a Friends  reference) hates Thanksgiving, I hate this day and it’s sick, twist on humor. It’s unfunny attempt to be funny.And while China was ultimately, the best experience ever, I still resent this day and those who resort to it to play jokes. I FIND IT CRUCIAL TO BE FUNNY YEAR ROUND, okay?