I’ve been experiencing intermittent bursts of joy these last few months. Not that any of it has been sustained happiness unfortunately. In the times in between I am still wrestling with my wet blanket. But at least I have glimpses. And in those sparks of energy I have been quite an artsy-craftsy baker-boi. For Emily’s birthday I decided to attempt to make her a home-made version of her favorite cake (which she usually gets from a fancy Viennese bakery in Rhode Island) . When I began this undertaking I had no idea what I was getting into. We’re talking a chiffon cake layered with a lemon mousse and frosted with a lemon buttercream frosting. A 4 hour endeavor at least. But I did it. With much success and aplomb if I do say so myself.
Proud as a veritable peacock, I brought a slice over to my friends’ house where we watch Game of Thrones together weekly. As they devoured the cake, exclaiming over its deliciousness, Alycia looked up at me through the fork tines she was licking clean, “Worst. Trans-man. Ever.”, she said swallowing. “What?!”, I choked. “Dude, you are the worst trans-man ever! I swear. If you’re not knitting or crafting you’re baking light and fluffy chiffon cakes with mousse and come on!! You need to toughen up!” We all laughed our asses off. Best. Friends. Ever. I love you guys!