Today marks one full year of blogging. A first blogiversary, if you will. WordPress tells me I’ve written 396 posts, which lets me know that I have had well over a year’s time to rot your brain, teeth, and better judgment. You’re an enabler.
And since I’m plumb out of stationary, I figure e-thank you’s to be both trendy and fitting. So here goes:
To those who eat at my table, even if that table is imaginary, and even if that imaginary table is set with the letters on a keyboard and a clunky wireless mouse, thank you.
To those who peer into the computer screen window at my life and all I choose to share, thank you.
To those who read the pages of my blog as you might a journal or, dare I say, a book (albeit a 3rd grade novel), thank you.
To those who come here because you want to lose weight, you can. You will. Thank you.
To those who come here because you are losing weight, you can. You will. Thank you.
To those who come here because you have lost weight and are finding your own ‘normal,’ you can. You will. Thank you.
To those who have read the posts in which I’ve been as honest as I know honest to be- about loss, about sadness, about life- that sharing has been cathartic and somehow intimate. Thank you.
To those who think I write with any shred of confidence, know that I delete each and every post one full time before rewriting and publishing it. The process has never for one day gotten easier, never less overwhelming. Never. If it seems the slightest bit effortless, I’m a master manipulator, and thank you.
To those who find my writing on par with the intelligence level of a chimpanzee, that ain’t half bad. Thank you.
To those who notice that my hands are chronically dry in photographs where I fondle the food, that’s an excellent point. I will get lotion and thank you.
To those who recognize my eccentricities, know that I’m zany, accept unpredictability, embrace mild forms of psychosis, and love me nonetheless, thank you.
To the people in my real life who I’ve written stories about, semi-exposed, and/or tarnished the reputation of, please trust that I publicly embarrass myself more than you’ll ever know. And thank you.
To those who visit just for the recipes and skim the fluffy puff of a preface or even the thick sludge of a heartfelt beginning, I hope the ones you’ve tried have turned out well. I can’t always nourish the soul too, so thank you.
To those who tell me that I’ve inspired them, motivated them, made them feel that it’s all okay, that it’s all worthwhile, I am forever your fat or thin friend. I will always know. I am here, thanking you.
To those who comment, even when I don’t, even when I can’t comment in return, I’m in awe of you and your giving nature. Thank you.
To those who laugh with me (and at me), joke after lame joke, antic after ‘No, but really is this chick for real?’ antic, being me is the funniest of funny. And even when it’s not, it kinda is. Thank you.
To all of you, you’ve changed my life. Thank you.
Rainbow Tie Dye Cupcakes
Now, onto the celebration! I made rainbow tie dye cupcakes. It was only a matter of time before I discovered a way to let my inner kindergartner shine. Think of me as regressing further into childhood with each post. The blog will make much more sense, and you, well you won’t be so horrified when I tell you all the ways I’ve played with my food.
These cupcakes are cute as a button. Cute as a button, I tell you! I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.
Even though each is just a sweet and simple yellow cupcake, tinting the batter all the hues of a rainbow makes them so fun and unique. I guarantee if you took a dozen to work or to a party, they’d be a hit. Even more popular with kids, I imagine.
Here’s how to make them yourself:
Start by whipping up the batter for your favorite vanilla cupcakes. Divide the batter into four separate small bowls.
Tint each bowl with a few drops of food coloring or gel: one red, one blue, one green, one yellow. Try not to overmix your batter here, because you’ll develop the gluten in the flour and be left with a very tough, bread-like cupcake. Incorporate the color in the fewest stirs possible.
Drop spoonfuls of each colored batter into the cupcake liners until they are 3/4 full.
When all the liners are filled, use a toothpick to swirl the batter a few times. Use a clean toothpick for each cupcake so that you keep the colors clean, and don’t swirl too much or you’ll mix the colors into a brown tone.
Bake them according to the instructions on your cupcake recipe.
Pile them with pure white frosting, because you want to let the rainbow colors in the cake be the stars of the show. I used my favorite whipped frosting recipe and then shook rainbow sprinkles over the tops for an extra-cute pop of color.
Final step: taste test for quality control.