You know when you go to a party, and you're having an amazing time and you think, "I'm having so much fun, nothing bad could possibly come of this!"? But then a few days later, you see photographic evidence, and you're horrified. Not because you were dancing like a lunatic with a drink in each hand--eyes staring off in two different directions because you couldn't focus anymore. No, you're horrified because the camera caught you at an angle where you could see your ass. And damn it if they didn't Photoshop the hell out of that picture, because THAT. Is. NOT. My. Ass!

Oh, but it is (see what I did there?) And when, exactly, did I stop paying attention to said ass to the point where it needed it's own area code? I can only blame so much on the camera and its so-called extra ten pounds. I think modern cameras must add twenty, sometimes even thirty pounds. Ah, the digital age. I think we either need to go back to hand-painted portraits, or I need to give up the cupcakes. And let's be honest...that's a tough call. Especially with a dozen frosted cupcakes in the kitchen, at this very minute, whispering my name like the sirens of the deep.

There's just no escaping it. I'm going to have to go on an actual--gulp!--diet. That means no more cupcakes. No more milk shakes. No more chocolate. I may not survive this ordeal. But then again, I fully expect more pictures to be taken in the near future, and I just can't bear to see that wide angle view.

Did I mention my laptop caught fire yesterday? Fire! This sort of thing is stressful and cupcakes are magical stress relievers.

No. I mustn't fall back on cupcakes. I must remember my new mission. Project Ass Buster. This farm is now a cupcake-free zone. We've gone from burning laptops to burning calories. I can taste the satisfaction already. Or is that the frosting still on my lips?

Eh, baby steps, right?

Until the next time...I'll be eating salad.

I made the classic mistake of telling the world I made pie. I put it right there on my Facebook wall...and tweeted it too. What seemed to be an innocent comment on my awesome baking talents ended up being a debate. About pie? No...about cupcakes. Cupcakes, you ask? How did you get from pie to cupcakes?

Well, I'll tell you...it wasn't an immediate jump, but it was most definitely a status hijacking.

It started out with a comment about the merits of pie versus cake. My own husband would prefer pie over any kind of cake. He told me he could have cake any day, but pie was special. And then the conversation took a strange new direction when a writer friend posed the question, "Is a cupcake still a cupcake if you don't frost it."

Well, yeah...of course. It's a sad little cupcake without any decoration, but it's still cake. In a cup. And therefore a cupcake. My friend vehemently disagreed. It was her contention that the cupcake loses its status if not finished with the frosting. Well, as you can well imagine, this statement caused an outrageous back and forth commentary between no less than three other writer friends, none of them short on words, comparing the differences between cupcakes, muffins, biscuits and other assorted baked goods. The debate sunk to levels no sober baker should ever sink to. And the poor, unfrosted cupcake was raked over the coals for crimes against baked goods.

I maintain my original position that a cupcake is not defined by frosting anymore than a woman is defined by a man. Or something like that. Cupcakes of the world unite! Defy societies rigid requirements and go bare. Demand equal rights with the cupcakes with frosting upon theirs.

I don't even like frosting that much. But hey, I just wanted to talk about my pie.

Until the next time...I'll be skipping the baking topics for a while.