2018, eh? This year marks the ten year anniversary of this here blog. Ten freaking years – a whole decade of sugar, flour, butter, all gussied up into cakes cakes cakes galore. I wonder how many cakes I’ve made in ten years? I am both disturbed and delighted by this. I really had no idea this was going to become my career, and now, ten years later, the same year my BOOK comes out, I’m still chugging along. A published book, something I’ve dreamt of my whole life, from when I was a nine-year-old writing goth pegasus-murder stories, to high school where I was writing… probably murder stories, to my 20s, where I would garble out non-fiction Gonzo-style writing and interviews (thank God the internet didn’t really exist back then) to my 30s, where I found a place to write (about cakes, not murder) on my blog. Will I be a 60 year old woman with a white haired bowl cut and oversized Marni blazer, still making cakes? Perhaps I will then turn back to writing about murder and become Canada’s first Chinese Agatha Christie.
I made this whimsy-packed rainbow sprinkles birthday cake wonder for my dearest Dad, Gerry Sung is the man, the man with the plan and the love of vintage cars, saddle shoes and more fashionable jackets than my sisters and I combined. I’ve written rather extensively about my Dad before, and anyone who has been a longtime-ish reader of my blog knows that I am very close to my family. I am so lucky to have my parents in my life, and to have them live close by. Sometimes I have this urge to go back to my old childhood home, open the heavy front door, call out “Hi Mom!!” as I walk in. Take my shoes off, enter the kitchen. Open the fridge to find some milk, rummage through the pantry for cereal or old-ass cookies or even seaweed gummy bears or some other healthy “treat” my mom would have at home. Go up to my room, lie in my childhood bed, look at the posters on my wall, play one of my cassette singles and admire the eggplant purple paint which I chose myself because being a brooding moody teen is cool. Different eras roll by, and now I’m in the basement pushing around Peaches ‘n Cream Barbie next to He-man in a plastic Corvette, pulling up to Castle Greyskull, fighting with my sisters. Then, it’s grade 9 and I’m wearing huge hoop earrings and backwards overalls and doing dance routines on the black and white checkered floor. Dinner will be spaghetti and meatballs with iceberg lettuce salad. Homework will be completed, and bedtime will ensue, and I will feel safe in my home with my parents and sisters close by and life isn’t even a concept in my mind because when you’re young you can’t see past the following day. Oh how I miss our old house.
Now, January 2018 is here. As a child, I could never imagine being 41, with a family of my own. As I was putting the Christmas decorations away today, Teddy said “I don’t want to put the tree away!!” and I remarked to him, “Didn’t it seem like yesterday that we put the tree up? Didn’t it all go by so fast??” xo Lyndsay
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