This morning I started a Pilates class. At 6 a.m.! I don’t usually do mornings. Particularly not for exercise. Yet, to my amazement and the amazement of all who know me, I pulled myself out of bed this morning at 5:15 and was out of the house by 5:30, dressed with my hair and teeth brushed.
It’s about 2 p.m. now. Throughout the day I’ve felt myself walking a bit taller and feeling a bit self-righteous. After all, I’m now the kind of person who gets up before the birds to exercise. I hope the push of self-righteousness lasts long enough for this to become a habit. The next test comes Thursday morning, a mere 39 hours from now.
The Cupcakes PartEating cupcakes takes the form of a ritual for me. I set the cupcake on the plate and pause to admire it. Often I whip out my camera and take a picture, even if I already have many similar photos of similar cupcakes. Next I carefully (so as not to smudge the icing) pick it up and remove the paper wrapper from the stump. I then remove the top from the stump and set it gently on the plate, still careful not to disturb the icing. Then I eat the stump, breaking off bite-size pieces, never taking a bite directly from the stump.
When the stump is gone and my coffee is about half finished (I did mention that a cupcake should be accompanied by coffee, didn’t I?), I finally take a bite of the top. Carefully, so as to leave the icing as intact as possible until the last bit finds its way into my mouth.I’m not sure if this excruciating method signifies my deep affection for cupcakes or just offers a glimpse into my disturbed obsessive-compulsive mind. Whatever the reason for my ritual, it’s a ritual I look forward to. I wonder if I would like cupcakes as much if I didn’t care how they are eaten?
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