"I could totally make those vintage blueberry bliss bars that are dusted with the finest of powdered sugars...I could so make them. And I'd wrap them up and tie bows around them and give them to the people I love!"
And then I remember, my baking adventures have always ended poorly. Burnt. Shapeless. The wrong color. Sour?
Sadly, oh so sadly, I'm not a baker. And here is why:
I am hard wired to solve problems and improve processes. I sit at traffic lights and think about how if only this particular light changed with a green arrow first, it would have a change reaction-type effect and solve traffic problems all the world over. At the grocery store, I can think of 487 ways to increase productivity and make my line go faster - not that anyone is interested, mind you. I am sorry to confess that when I meet someone, inside, I'm like "What a beautiful girl...a little lipstick would make that 9 a solid 10, though!" Don't worry - I do it to my kid, too.
"Oh, this drawing rocks! Maybe just one more leg on that horse and you're in business!"
So, yes, I'm super critical about dumb stuff and it doesn't matter whether I'm an authority on the matter or not. The same applies for my self, of course - I just don't have time to color my roots right now, ok?!
How does this relate to baking? (You might be, totally understandably, wondering.) Well, it's like this. I see the ingredient list, and I think "Sure, sure. 1/2 teaspoon of vanilla extract would be fine. Acceptable. Good enough. Adequate. But perhaps...just maybe...a whole teaspoon could just knock it right out of the park." I know how crazy this is. I don't know how to bake. And I know I don't know how. But somehow, the most prideful, arrogant, elitist part of me thinks she knows better than Betty freaking Crocker. And I end up with crappy cookies.
So I don't bake.
I can help you with your resume. I can recommend a good product for curly hair. I can keep your children alive while you go to yoga class. But you're in charge of the cake.
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