Anyone that has underestimated Steph or DatesandCakes is gravely mistaken-- including Steph herself. This girl is gonna have the force, even though I had NO clue "gravely mistaken" was a phrase from Star Wars.... I was really just emphasizing to any of my past flings or anyone else that seems to have their opinion of me in a bunch, that I'm worthy of the love I seek. That message is to me too <3 I've been back and forth with blogging and vlogging due to insecurities rooted in other's words but perpetuated by my own weakness. Well, thanks to my new blog friend, I'm taking a stand and publishing it! This datesandcakes recipe is for me! GASP I didn’t think you are sleeping w all these guys. Don’t worry about what others think, it is none of their business, and everyone has their own lenses for the world. You are making the best decisions for you and your life. I wonder what dessert that would be, one for you, a big heart for loving yourself so well and not settling out of fear, boredom, or hormones! I've been running this race of life in a unique pair of shoes that have more than "soul." I've prided myself on not checking (or climbing inside) the boxes society has built: |
Who the hell did I think I was? I know there's a movement right now about girls being able to play the field and take their emotions out of physical interactions, but I need to face the bass-buzzing, window-down-blaring music that I'm different. My emotional capacity is not that of your average bear. Oh, did I forgot to give you the earth-shattering conclusion of this crush? GHOSTED. |
This is how the world works: you gotta leave before you get left." - T Swizzle
So, something finally has to give.... "I'm sorry [enter names here], I'm cleaning out my closet." Call it spring cleaning for my soul!
Doesn't automatically render a space
In your jumbled head of drafted plans
Shading the night to grays and tans
He brushed your curl aside as if it were practice
Outlined your firm expression that of an actress
Breathing close in a rhythm to hypnotize
Temporary this moment, yet to realize
Just because the scene has set doesn't mean he is
On the syllables of your name or how it sounds with his
So don't mistake a mere glint for an enlightening
You'll meet a thunder, fit to be his lightening
The Nola Series Continues.....
Here's the 4-1-1 on the back story of how Mr. Ringo came to be.... and a semi-funny meme, since I couldn't find a Parent Trap meme with Merideth Blake saying, "Here's the 4-1-1."
There was this blonde dude-bro that was at least 4 years younger than me watching intently. He looked like a school-yard boy waiting to jump into double dutch. He made his move before Christmas and I was elated while grinding to Ludacris. While feeling the emotions, among other things, I felt eyes on me when Mr. Ringo walked back up. Guilt swept over me.
Even though nothing was stated about rekindling anything, he was a complete and utter gentleman and I still felt guilty. I don't know if the guilt would have subsided if a girl would have danced with him (even though he "doesn't dance").
The words of another guy before him rang in my ears while putting my weight on the foot in a right Van shoe. Mr. Publisher wrote words that I didn't believe when he bitterly spat them via internet forum but they rose to the top of my liquored mind (in which he bought some of the drinks...yes, I'm the worst BUT, he was staying with me BUT he came to SEE ME). I lose. So, in this moment in my favorite American city, I believed the words that publisher wrote about me... something to the affect of:
she's the reason there's not any good guys left.
Now, I do not take responsibility for ALL the good guys converting to scum-between-my-toes but, I do feel for the good guys that I.... well are no longer taken with. I don't do it on purpose... just as I assume guys that were never intrigued long enough with me didn't fall off to spite me.
Well, this Mr. Ringo is a gentleman, loving father, and generous person with a colossal heart. It meant more to me than I let on that he came to visit me... I have family that wouldn't spend time with me and I WAS IN THEIR ZIPCODE.
I made breakfast and we had some of the most comfortable conversation of my life and then, like a pound of maple bacon, he was gone. I tried to see if we could meet up for Mardi Gras but, to no avail. I truly wish him the best and hope to still frolic our city together. Then again, I also understand if he chooses not too; I've been on that side of the equation as well.
I hobbled my way into the bowling alley across an open space of hardwood floors where Cajuns where jigging in every which direction. The music even smelled of this great city. I am not really sure what that means but gosh, it was a lively scene. Unlike any other dance hall I'd been to.... and I've been to Billy Bob's and Florabama more times than I can count.
After securing a cold Budlight in my hand #ballingonabudget, I watched the feet of the colorful enthusiasts spinning and bouncing with jubilee. The washboard was almost hypnotizing. Gosh, that sounds like a Tide commercial. X)
A vibrant hippie was stepping to Zydeco alone so I joined her.
"Hey! Can you teach me?"
"Honey, we can learn together!"
After giving it a go with a clomp clomp clomp (still in the boot), a studious, yet big-headed bald guy flashed me a smile and asked me dance.
Rolling my eyes inside, I was in no position to turn him down; my desire to learn exceeded my distaste for cocky males. After cheap conversation and obvious judgement of my dancing, the second song ended and he made his way to a thin blonde with evident Zydeco experience.
After returning to my new hippie friend, we danced the night away with no remorse for butchering the dance of this great city.
There wasn't a day that didn't pass during my dog-sitting days that I didn't find some vibrant thing to do. Since I've bled black and gold since birth, I figured why not try my hand at a saints game.
The dome really is home. <3
If you can believe it... I've got one more NOLA post in me.
Since I bounce like an 80's pogo-stick, I figured I should expand on my adventures hobbling and wobbling around in a medical-grade (not Steve Madden unfortunately) Velcro boot. So... I ended up having broken toes I mentioned two posts ago for more than 6 weeks!! Possibly because I didn't seek medical attention or possibly because I can't stop, won't stop....
1. Conceal the pain
2. Blend dark colors with my black boot for fashion forgiveness
3. Cover-up the restrictions and contort adventure
My aunt offered me first dibs at a dog and house-sitting gig for 3 weeks in October; Hallo-YEAH! October 31st is my second favorite holiday; my first favorite fluctuates but, Halloween is always a solid 2nd. <3
Voodoo Fest has ALWAYS been on my bucket list! Having the privilege of spending every summer and fall break in New Orleans, this vibrant city easily became my heart's home. From Jackson Square (Main Name proof I belong there ;) to The Saints to crawfish boils, that place exemplifies my existence. I don't really know what that means but... it felt right and a little spicy ;)
Why did I waste my time talking to a guy on the phone from Texas while I was in my favorite city in Louisiana? Because I was in a pathetic state where I thought I needed the comradely. It's not that he showered me in compliments or promises of some fruition when I returned, I think it was he was a deep voice on the other line of my phone. Bleak, I know, but we only talked while I was in New Orleans. I've GOT to re-channel my energy. .....This is actually one of the conversations I had with Comet (pictured above). He ghosted me and I'm not even focusing on it on this post? Wow, that's.... progress.
Now back to the 3 week stay in a boot in New Orleans in a transition.
Since I was less than impressed with the Voodoo line-up, I signed up to volunteer so I could gain admittance fo free. The fest was 3 weeks away, so to ensure I soaked up as much of this vibrant city as possible, I met with my bad ass uncle (yes, that is an official name I call him to his face. Any birthday card or Christmas present is addressed to him as so) who gave me the low-down on local music throughout the city.
"Damn girl! You're hoofing it in that thing!"
"I won't let this thing stop me. I'm headed to a Blues Fest right now!"
He chuckled, "I see ya!"
I continued with my swag (bahaha) and as the rip of an electric guitar greeted my ears, I breathed easy. Bypassing the over-priced beer tents (there were at least 7. I approve) I made my way to the stage that had a man with long curly hair adjusting his kapo and microphone. Moving further from the stage currently producing music and locking my eyes on the magician to perform, I was in a trance. Yes, I know I wrote magician and I meant it. He was a blues rockstar that reminded me of "The Publisher" I dated in 2018. Long hair, passionate, and guhhh could he play the guitar (I later learned).
While caught in my trance, I rooted my feet in a spot right behind a walkway so my view would never be fully obstructed. Immediately to my right was a group of Californians that offered their lawn chair before I could make my way to the dry patch of grass below my mismatching shoes.
"Oh no, I'm fine! Thank you so much though," I smiled.
"Are you sure?" said the only guy in the group of four westerners.
"Absolutely, but the thought means a lot!"
It turned out, I had made friends almost instantly. Once the set of my "magician" started, I returned comfortably to my trance swaying and really soaking in the blues. Gosh, why don't I listen to blues more often... or at all? I thought to myself.
As the songs bled into each other, I was taken with the soul on stage and almost didn't hear the man from the group of four beside me insist I sit in his chair while he get in line for more beer. Smiling at the hospitality and actually up for the gesture, I transferred my weight to my hands and then back to my uninjured foot to stand. My first step toward the chair, I almost ate it and plummeted face-first into the lawn of Lafayette Square Park.
The three Cali girls seated in lawn chairs leaned forward in urgency and one even let out a gasp. Catching myself, I laughed, "See? Clumsy. That's how I got this boot in the first place!"
Once seated, we began conversation as the Blues's set played it's final song. You bet your sweet self I hopped to my uneven feet for a standing ovation when they were done. Gah! That was talent.
He seemed really humble when a burly stranger slapped him on the back and said, "great playing man. Haven't heard blues like that since B.B. King."
"I really appreciate that man," the star responded while placing a hand on the stranger's back.
As he continued to walk to the north side of the park, the guy who's chair I was in, returned to our pow-wow spot. As I scrambled to get up, the two girls to my left rose to their feet and offered one of their chairs. In a game of musical chairs where I couldn't lose, I casually and carefully made my way over to one of the vacant seats.
I conversed with them about music and travel (my two favorite things on the planet) and then they invited me to smoke with them. Pulling out a blunt from his breast pocket, he lit it and just like the rap songs, "puff, puff, pass."
My eyes were probably as big as my boot. "Oh... I have a new job I am trying to land and if I get it, I've gotta pass the drug test in like 2 weeks. Thanks though!"
"You sure?" His wife asked in-between inhales.
"Oh yes," I smiled.
I listened to another set before setting off to church in The French Quarter. I absolutely LOVE being able to walk everywhere in a city. This suburan girl never got that. That's probably part of the reason I loved Madrid and Barcelona so much. Okay.... that's only 1 of like 9834 reasons ;)
Wouldn't you know as I made my way further through downtown, I found myself smack in the middle of a 2nd line for a wedding!!!
Anywho.... after shimmying my way out of someone's special day, I made my way to church and continued to make my way around this fabulous city at the same pace I could have under normal conditions.
Let's be honest, I'm anything but normal. This blog of 400 something posts is living proof of that.... Until next post of this NOLA series.... cheers!
You're the type of person I wish I couldn't like.
Intellectually sound with a meandering spirit.
You've faulted girls before, but I still want to hear it.
Bunny slippers and thick skin,
You pay no mind to the lane you're in.
Tickled by serendipity, you indulge
Personally astonished by the "me" I divulge.
My desire is not rooted in the intangible type.
I took comfort in being where you set your sight.
Under a street light, opportunity and lips locked,
Even though neither ship was docked.
Converting time and available hours,
Leasing the place where idleness cowers.
Paralleling pains in hidden trails,
Any other comparison this one pales.
Until the last page I am intrigued.
But alas I refuse to follow the lead.
From eastern standard to central standard, from a coastal suburb to the capital of the Lonestar state, my dating life affects you.
After each call confessing the toxic nature of the next "catch," you sit disgusted, yet introspective to ensure such powerful reactions are warranted.
Your thoughts were never carried across the phone lines we tightrope daily.
Thoughts like: It's her life. She's grown.
Surely she knows this is-- does she know?
Is her judgement that endangered?
Is her worth extinct?
Does she know she's better than this disgrace of a man?
Her track record pretense.
It breaks me that she casually excuses his manipulative behaviors, again.
No, she's not foolish naive enough to allow the same individual to repetitively... Is she?
Disappointment.
"She's got a ticket to ride and she don't care." Beatles bumping, spirit flapping, and mind buzzing, she does it again.
After watching relationships of ones I love, my heart bled for their misery. This was especially true when I inquired of the reason for starting the relationship. My level of astonishment couldn't be measured. This isn't a romantic comedy where the music shift foreshadows the revelation of the protagonist. This music was never turned up. They exchanged their dreams of "happily ever after" for 5 minute sex and a cigarette after or a sunset with nightmare laughter. They jumped out of singleness, painted gloomy into taken, shackled with diamonds. No one bothered to chip away at the paint, they just wanted a highway to happiness. I can't blame them--- certainly sounds like a highway I would set the cruise to 90 on. But, what the signs don't tell you is this is not "the" highway to happiness, there are always alternative modes of transportation to achieve this ultimate goal. The signs offer no warning that the road may take you to a similar fog from happiness you're currently enduring.
Daylight and Sunlight are NOT the same thing!
Some people feel that they would have it all if they just had a significant other. That mentality leads to settling and agreeing to that person because of a delicate equation of
time spent+morals-patience/time left.
This isn't proven with mathematics or science, but just what I've noticed from women (and one man) that I respect and used to admire--- idolize their marriage.
Prior to this observation, I was venturing out into new states and opportunities, hoping to be rerouted with a "good find." For the right person, I was open to slowing up so we could prepare to launch somewhere together. My imagination scribbled plans of following his job and starting anew a build a network because he would already have our direction. It wasn't until the corruption of the marriages I adored loosened their bandages that I removed my gaze from cloud-framed imagination and I amped-up my hustle. Put in longer hours, said no dates (while spending no effort on excuses to suitors), and cut my spending in half. Put up signs for a garage sale and hit the library in the Non-Fiction section. After pouring over 10% of the geography books 3 branches in Fort Worth had to offer, I spread my wings to Dallas and received notice from a friend with a mutual obsession for travel.
A week later, it was official: I had my own ticket to ride.
.....Actually, I got 7 tickets to ride.
On Christmas Eve, I kissed my family, tradition, and a ham feast goodbye as I boarded a 787 Dreamliner to London. Nontraditional, not regrettable, and inevitably unforgettable.
For the next 19 days, Prague, Brussels, Bruges, Dublin, Howte, Glasgow, Edinburgh, and Reykjavik became my temporary home. I became my own ticket and took my imagination for a ride.
There is more that fuels you than a significant other; find it and pursue it passionately.
Be Your Own Escape like the Blue Lagoon was to me in 32 degree weather in Iceland.
And his words are ammunition
His pressure strikes my chords
like a trained musician
He afflicts more than pain
yet holds expectation
Of mercy-dipped compassion
--free of allegation
A mirage of infinity
miles in the distance
My true heartbreak harbors
in my stream of least resistance
Since once again I'm on the move, I figured I could share a brief post of encouragement I've found in my travels....
In no relation to Linkin Park, I found this beauty in Manhattan one night in September on the way to dinner.
In a Dallas library, more specifically "the hood" aka Oak Cliff, I found this beautiful dedication. Find beauty everywhere, friends-- especially in singleness.
A map contains infinite road ways to my heart; mine presently has 9 countries and counting.
My road of singleness is a blessing. Being the sole navigator to my next destination is liberating.
- quit my Job in Charleston at the start of 2019
- drop my car filled with all my belongings in Pensacola
- move to Spain in January for a few months and frolicked to other countries on the weekend
- stand in two weddings in Dallas in March and then proceed to a downtown city in the Florida panhandle
- explore the white sandy beaches in Pensacola until summer ended
- September was for shifting from Pensacola to New Orleans to Manhattan to Charleston to San Antonio to Austin
- October was split between Dallas and Charleston
- The holidays seem to be Dallas bound until Christmas itself
I'm kind of a bad ass bitch (no DNA test needed) and a force to be reckoned with because I survived the alleged sex trafficking and terrorism in Europe. I actually enjoy spending time with myself, which is contrary to how I felt before this trip. I learned I don't want to tolerate life, but enjoy it. My initiative on this trip proves that I have the power to change anything that makes me unhappy my life, within reason of course.
I also learned, not in a feminist way, but empowering way that I don't need a man. Like fighting this societal trend of pressuring you to feel like you need someone else to be complete when you're rapidly approaching the age of 30. I didn't let myself down. And honestly, people thought I would be home sick and get sex trafficked or kidnapped or would have you and I had nothing but great stories to come back with and a certain fulfillment that I wasn't even looking for....
Like the dots on a map, the raspberries are just that; sweet upon meeting and tart upon departure.
Raspberry Chocolate Truffle Cake
- 6 large eggs, at room temperature
- 1 pound (455 g) semisweet chocolate (50% to 60% cacao mass), finely chopped
- 1 cup (2 sticks; 226 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature, cut into pieces
Glaze & Decoration:
- 1 cup (240 ml) Dark Ganache Glaze, liquid and ready to pour
- 1 half-pint firm and dry fresh raspberries
- For the Cake: Preheat the oven to 375°F/190°C. Coat the inside of an 8-inch by 2-inch deep (20 cm x 5 cm) heart shaped cake pan with nonstick spray, line bottom with parchment, then spray parchment. (Cut the parchment to fit by tracing the pan).
- Place the whole eggs, in their shells, in a bowl filled with hot tap water for 5 minutes. Warming the eggs ensures maximum volume when they are whipped.
- Place the chocolate and butter in a large heatproof bowl and set over a pot of simmering water or microwave until chocolate is three-quarters of the way melted. Remove from heat source and whisk gently every now and then for a few minutes until chocolate is completely melted and mixture is smooth.
- Meanwhile, crack whole eggs into bowl and beat with mixer on high speed until tripled in volume, pale yellow and thick enough to hold a very soft peak.
- Add about 1/4 of the egg mixture to the cooled chocolate. Gently combine by hand, using a whisk. It’s OK if streaks of egg remain. Add remaining eggs and fold in, first using the whisk, then finishing with a large silicone spatula. The batter will deflate a bit, but try to retain as much volume as possible. The mixture will look like chocolate mousse. Scrape batter into pan and level with a small offset spatula.
- Place the pan in a large roasting pan filled with 1-inch of hot water. Bake for about 12 to 15 minutes. The surface will look dull. If you tilt the pan slightly, the edges will come away from the sides of the pan. Both of those visuals are important and the only way to really tell that it is done. It will still be very soft, like a pudding. Don’t fret. Remove pan from water and cool pan completely on rack. Wrap with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight. (Cake may be frozen at this point up to 1 week; defrost in refrigerator overnight before continuing).
- For Unmolding: Unwrap pan, flip it over (the cake will not fall out) and allow hot tap water to run all over the bottom of the pan. The warmth from the water should loosen the cake from the sides and bottom of the pan. Warm an icing spatula under hot water and blot dry. Run the spatula around the sides of the cake. Apply pressure out towards the pan, not in towards the cake, or you might accidentally shave off some of the cake’s side. Flip the cake over and firmly shake and wiggle the pan back and forth; you are trying to get the cake to release its surface tension with the pan. The cake should slip out. If it doesn’t, repeat the warm water and jiggling steps. Gently lift off the pan completely. Peel off the parchment.
- For Glaze & Decoration: Place cake on rack set on a sheet pan. Pour the ganache glaze over the cake and use an offset spatula to gently spread the cover the top of the cake and allow to drip down the sides. Use spatula to help the ganache adhere to the sides as well. Allow the cake to sit for several minutes for the glaze to begin to set.
- Use a strong broad spatula to lift cake and place on serving platter. Cake may be refrigerated at this point up to overnight.
- Right before serving, arrange fresh berries on top of cake as desired. I made a single row around the outer edge, but you might create a different design. Feel free to use the entire half-pint. Cake is ready to serve cold or at room temperature.
Author
Chef Steph cooking up trouble. If she can't find anything real, she bakes real good sweets. Chocolate really may mend a broken heart...
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