Today, I baked a cake. Well, sorta; it came in one of those boxes. I got to add eggs, oil and water though.

I’ve wanted to get into baking and cooking for a while now. I can trace this to last summer, when my sister and I had ourselves a Buffy marathon and contemplated how well magic worked as a hobby. The collecting of herbs and candles and rocks and magicstuffs – the occasional researching – the mixing and burning and freezing – the mix of intuition, experimentation and set guidelines/rules – what more could you ask of a pastime? Obviously, since I’m not about to start practicing magic unless I thought it would work (and I don’t), I transferred my desire to do all those things into cooking and baking. And, OK, as of yet I haven’t learned to do either – baby steps, people.

It’s the start of summer, now. I’m looking for a job, yes, but I’ve also got a lot more free time on my hands, and hopefully some of that will translate into more baking/cooking. I’ll even take drink-mixing. But I started with a German chocolate cake…out of a box. Hey, this is impressive in my family, anyway.

It was mostly fun, except for that:

– The instructions now just assume that every person out there uses electric egg beaters. Well, THEY DON’T (although, they definitely should; I spent half-a-friggin hour beating and mixing and churning, and it still wasn’t as smooth as I’d like!).

– I accidentally put the cake in while the oven was still preheating. Whoops! As a result, it wasn’t ready at the time indicated and I had to guess at when to take it out. My poor cake has several toothpick stab wounds as a result.

I slathered chocolate cream on’t and as an afterthought dedicated it to my mother (though I’ve blurred out her name), because, well, you can never suck up enough to your mom (especially when you’re staying/still living with her).

Ta-da! Dessert!

 

 

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