Figs in Neon Pink Boxes

Well, I just lost my mind. Maybe the heat finally got to me, but something shook loose enough for me to finally do it. For the past few months I couldn't help but notice that a little bakery opened up on the corner of our neighborhood. It caught my eye partly because the sign was done in neon pink, and the other part being that it was no ordinary bakery. Behold...it was a cupcake bakery!

If you know me very well you'll know that I try to keep wheat and gluten out of my family's diet. I personally feel better when I'm not consuming it, so as the "cook" of the family, everyone else has to "suffer" without it. How much suffering is done may be determined by my ever-so-patient, carb-loving husband. I will own up to a couple loaves of wheat bread reserved for my man who likes him some sandwich, but other than that...no flour in this house.

So where was I? Oh yes...the bakery. Well, so far I've managed to keep my wits about me and go through the "Don't do it...you'll feel bad later" talk, but today I succumbed to the neon sign. I reasoned that we deserved a little treat on such a miserably hot day, and that we didn't need to be prejudiced over a smidgeon of wheat. At least not today.

The bright sign pointed me right to the front door. Once inside the wheat...urr...Cupcake Palace, my eyes feasted upon a host of iced fancies, complete with cute names. Everything was stacked nicely on their cake-plate thrones and each called out to me in their tiny cupcake voices: "Hello, I'm a chocolate with strawberry drizzle....EAT ME!"..."You know what you really want is a vanilla with death by chocolate icing!". What didn't help is that the baker so helpfully read off all of her creations (as if the cute little signs weren't enough).

What REALLY didn't help was when she told me that the day-old cupcakes were half off. Now how could I possibly refuse a perfectly-fine-half-off-cupcake?! I looked over the selection as Olivia mouthed the word "cup-cake" a few times. Finally, the vanilla with fig drizzle was chosen and purchased. Half off of course. The poor baker, I can imagine her wanting to pinch me after she'd just listed off her fresh creations, and then I go and choose something from the day before. Nevertheless, we bought our cupcake and hot-footed it home before we (or the cupcake) melted.

Once home, I noticed that Olivia was conveniently overdue for a nap. I say "conveniently" because in truth, when you're a Mom, there is no such thing as enjoying any kind of treat without a little beggar at your side. Few things destroy a nice exception to the rule like a kid clambering into your lap for you to practice your sharing skills.

With Olivia snoozing, I pulled the cupcake out of the pretty neon pink box, put it on a cute saucer and sat down before the computer. Computer? Yes, the whole time I've been pouring out my heart in confession to you people, I have been consuming my cupcake. The fig sauciness was divine, the cake part moist, light and fluffy...but now the wheat and sugar rush is overtaking me. Yes, it's definitely hitting me. I figure if I go into some kind of sugar-induced coma then at least I might be able to type off a few words of explanation before I go.

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You know, now that I think of it...
Andrew, honey, if you're reading this and happen to find me laying on the floor with icing on my lips, I'm not trying to tempt you. I'm really just in some form of near death sugar coma. Take care of Olivia, feed her lots of fruit and veggies, and above all...don't give her any cupcakes. The bread for your sandwiches is in the freezer. I love you!

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Fortunately, I think I may live to blog again. I maintained a little bit of self control and whacked half of the icing off the top of "El Figgy". It's currently laying helpless on the side of the saucer, screaming at me to be eaten, but my ears are deaf to it's pleas. Dare I say it, I think I have learned my lesson. While cupcakes are delicious, they just aren't a friend of mine. Or my pancreas.

Note to self: Beware of figs in neon pink boxes.