Cupcakes Are Not a Commitment

I find it timely to discuss cupcakes as a metaphor for life especially in light of today’s celebration of National Cupcake Day. Anyone looking to truly understand me should know that for me, this is a metaphor for life. I believe it’s important to commit to some things – family, health and Glee on Wednesday nights. But, like so many things in life, I’m also committed to dabbling – I’m a dabbler.

There’s far too much pressure these days to be an expert. Let me begin with the fact that I enjoy cooking and admittedly I’m pretty darn good at it. Really, I fancy myself a sort of a Kitchen McGyver – able to pull together a dinner party at a moment’s notice simply from what the pantry and refrigerator hold. (Ironically, I’m featured as an expert, in the upcoming February/March issue of Kiwi magazine in an article on “Pantry Meals.” Check your newsstands.) In fact, I find it an intriguing, little challenge like Felix the Cat, reaching into his little bag of tricks to prepare an impromptu dinner for six.

Now, with that said, I do not like to bake. It makes me anxious. There’s simply too much pressure having to follow recipes to the letter or risk a birthday cake that resembles a volcano that must be served in the dark. (Yes, this did happen – a big shout out to all of the folks that were at Rich’s 30th birthday party – it wasn’t just mood lighting—it was yet another baking disaster.)

However, cupcakes are a different story. They’re small enough to inspire a whimsical gasp of delight but not so serious as taking on a big, scary layer- cake. Eating and making cupcakes is kind of like dabbling in dessert.

Now, on life…it’s two-fold. On one hand, it’s clearly more manageable to look at life and its challenges in bite-sized morsels. On the other hand, indulging yourself in the freedom to dabble opens doors to all kinds of undiscovered opportunity. Unfortunately, it also fills a guest room closet with a graveyard of equipment to include everything from tarot cards to roller blades to a variety of craft supplies that will never see the light of day. But is it wrong? You may say, a jack of all trades, master of none. But, no, I say it broadens knowledge – it’s kind of like life’s tasting menu. And let me just add that with all of this knowledge, you want me as your Trivial Pursuit partner.

To that I say, have a cupcake. No guilt, all good.

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m pop culture crazy. One of my young singleton colleagues actually remarked the other day that I’m a “nineteen year old girl, trapped in the body of a wife and mother.” Well, it’s true and the shame ends now. I’m unabashedly addicted to Gossip Girl on the edge of my couch waiting to indulge in details of who Serena wearing and why is she sidling up to yet another inaccessible older man. And, it’s not just about the trends. I’ve loved a good vampy romance since the days when Buffy and Angel were stirring up trouble in Sunnydale. Twi-moms – bah, they’re just Johnny Come Latelies! Now, do I faithfully read the Sunday New York Times and listen to NPR on my morning commute? Yes, admittedly, I’m also a news junkie. I think it’s the ying to my yang, the peanut butter to my jelly or the fleur de sel to my chocolate covered caramel (yum). However, as of today, I no longer make excuses. I pity the dinner guest who haughtily claims to know nothing about Glee, never delighting in the weekly rantings of the ascerbic Sue Sylvester and head to iTunes to download the next fabulous cover with giddy abandon. I think what validates me is my plight to strike a balance. Can I go toe-to-toe with discussing the merits of the healthcare private option? You bet – well, at least for a little while. But, can I make the case that pop culture, delivered through television, movies and social media, is truly a progression of classic, literary tradition providing commentary on topics such as the blurry, and slippery line, between good and evil through the eyes of a melancholic teenaged vampire? In the words of Sarah Palin (or Tina Fey)…you betcha. And, let’s face it, who would you rather be seated with at your next dinner party? Yes, well, just send me an Evite and I’ll set the TiVo.