Just call ’em Flat Stanley




23 January 2013

I made donuts for the first time as the birthday desert for my brother Adam. He didn’t have an idea of what he wanted, so I chose for him. They’re not difficult to make. But I enjoyed eating the dough a lot more than the finished product. They just turned out really dense. And flat. I’m sure I worked the dough too much. But the overall flavor was appealing.

I’m not the world’s biggest fan of traditional birthday cakes. And big chain store bought deserts are not welcome. Halfway through making these little guys I thought about cupcakes, I could make cupcakes blindfolded. But since I have hundreds of recipes sitting on Pinterest, I thought I should put them to use. If we do not try, how will we ever know?

The good: They’re pretty easy to make. And kinda adorable. They’re whole wheat. And organic. And are tasty plain, with cinnamon sugar, or with a simple chocolate icing. Sprinkles are mandatory if you ice them. Just saying.

The bad: They’re still donuts. Which means oil. And I’m not a fan of frying anything. I’d like to try and bake them in the oven just to see what happens. Perhaps they’ll bake more like donut shaped muffins? Perhaps they will be more moist? And stand taller? Another trial must commence!


The End of It All


It’s finally over. Six days ago another chapter closed, another year in the past. And with 2012 in the past, so is my 366. I still may post days & recall my thoughts for those days. Maybe.

I just looked through my entire collection. And again I am left with similar feelings when my first 365 project came to an end. Relief. But for the second time now the morning of  January 1st began with thoughts of what my photo would be. A portion of me was depressed that I didn’t have a reason to catalog the day.

I no longer have a project to work on. To worry about. To be frustrated & annoyed by. To love. To remember the days that so easily would be forgotten if a photo weren’t taken. And without those logs how likely am I to forget even the most subtle events. But do they need to be remembered? I laugh at the idea of  attempting another year of photos. But two years from now I’ll probably feel that itch again. And I’ll probably be foolish enough to think “this time will be different”.