When life gets busy
August 8, 2010
Hey beauties!
Life has been a never-ending wirlwind of beautiful colors since the last time my words seeped from this keyboard into your mind. I’ve been swimming against the current in the sea of German. Finished a four week intensive lanuage course which hoisted me over the wall of “Wie heißt du?” and “Wie geht es dir?”. My shell was cracked and filled with the new aromas and tastes of Barcelona for three days. I re-evaluated the inspiration for the word gaudy; attempted to eat over-salted, marketed for tourists paella, and used a spanish version of toy story 3 as a hotel before our 3am bus back to Giorona airport. I also ate delicious falafel in true Israeli fashion, walked Park Guell, which was the gorgeous backdrop of “Vicky, Christina, Barcelona”, found the first self-serve froyo place in Europe, and enjoyed spending time in a new setting with Muki. We enjoyed the wafts of beauty found hidden amidst city smells. And we decided it was the last trip to a big city we were going to make for a very long while.
A few days after returning from Spain it was Muki’s birthday. In his family birthdays are celebrated with dinner of choice, a cake baked by his mother–the deliciousness of which should definitely not be downsized–and a present. In my family, however, all boundaries are broken on birthdays. Feasts are made, poems written, songs sang, and paintings created all in your name. Even though I know these sorts of celebrations are not common in many families except my own, I was not about to break Lapid tradition just because I happened to be in Germany, so I began drumming my fingers together, strategizing.
Out of Scotland reminiscening a birthday breakfast was born. Muki and I often wandered Edinburgh together, sometimes with no destination in mind. Almost always, however, we would trek our snow covered shoes into the one of the warm Starbucks. Muki knew that I would never voluntarily support a chain when there were wonderful little Scottish coffee shops around town; but for Starbuck’s cinnamon rolls even the morals and values of his girlfriend could be overlooked.
The night before his birthday I made some dough.
The buttery filling wouldn’t have tasted as good without Muki’s artistic contribution.
The next morning I woke up at 8 am and turned the dough into these birthday treats:
After doing as much as my hands could master, I passed the pressure over to the finicky oven.
There was also French Toast, and a mango–although it ended up being more of a his and hers breakfast. Cinnamon rolls for the birthday boy, and French toast with sugar free fruit spread and some mango for me.
Muki made me promise not to spend money on a material gift for him. He wanted something hand-made, something artistic. The problem is, my art comes in the form of writing, cooking, baking, or photography. Very rarely will I sit down and paint a picture so beautiful, you’d want to hang it in your house.
But while I’m no Picasso, I think this Edinburgh collage isn’t too too terrible. Anyway, it was a successful birthday! Lately, I’ve been procrastinating more, writing less. Watching more films in German, and realizing I still don’t understand them. Oh, and of course….I’ve been baking.
