Sunday, March 15, 2009

Walk slowly and carry a big purse.

I don't know what's on your agenda for today, but I am swinging by Meghan Laing's Open House on Springvale. I'm not looking to move closer to the golf course, and I don't care how nice the hardwood floors are. I am going to knock back a few cupcakes. 

How I approach it will be simple, I've been thinking about it all night: Feign interest in the sun-filled living room, then the new furnace, all the while scoping out the cakes. Once I have the tray of deliciousness in in my sights, I'll distract all other interested buyers with a well-timed, "oh look, French doors!" while I lop the icing off cupcake number one.

My obsession with cupcakes started when Jack was still cute and gullible, I guess around Junior Kindegarten. I looked forward to any and every opportunity to pretend I liked children so I could sign up for cupcake duty. Let the other Moms bring peanut-free juice boxes or carrot sticks. I was bringing the cocaine of kiddie land. I was bringing the cupcakes. 

Jack learned at a tender age that baking with Mommy was no fun at all, in fact it was outright dangerous. The mere smell of cooling cupcakes had me doing a Hulk-esque morph into Martha Stewart on acid. The poor child always wanted to help, but his idea of decorating was not in step with mine. His was a chubby fisted, free form mashing of gummy worms and drool. His was fun. My cupcakes had to be flawless, and unique, every single one of them and I didn't care who got hurt in the process. There was no room for error, or fun. I even went so far as to buy a big white turkey platter so the cupcakes didn't touch one another on the long, painful ride to school. I don't know how many of you have ever asked a five year old to sit perfectly still with a tray of cupcakes on their lap, under fear of death to not "TOUCH or even breathe on them!" The poor kid. 

Anyway, back to the Open House. I figure by the time I check out all 3 bedrooms, the backyard, and send the realtor to the car a few times for more "information", I should be able to suck back a good half dozen. Here's my secret: I only ever eat the top, just to the ruffled paper part. Cake is highly over-rated, it's the icing I kill for.

So if you're in the market for a cute house, my advice is to get there early. Those advertised "hardwood floors" won't last long once I get there. If you happen to miss the Open House, Sweet Janes on Doyle Street does a pretty good job on their cupcakes. Theirs are "New York" style, whatever that means, and they are close enough to the cash register that you can pop a few in while they tally up the gummies.