On tonsils and princesses

I'd like to say life moves quickly, but I'd just be trying to justify the slow pace of my blogging. Life moves on at its leisurely pace, with perhaps a touch of urgency brought on by the impending arrival of our newest cake afficianado, but I still can't manage to keep up with it in terms of blogging. So I'm going to compromise by writing about some stuff that happened recently, while posting pictures of cakes and pastries of yore. If you're lucky, I'll tie them together thematically at the end of the post. (hint: you're not going to be lucky).

So the biggest news these days is that conor had his tonsils out last week. He was one excited kid, waking us up the morning of (and the morning before, actually) at 5 a.m. to ensure that we wouldn't miss the operation. I'm informed that he was charming and perky all the way through, and confounded us with his ability to look cute even in hospital garb (see photo below). I arrived at the hospital just in time for his awakening from anaesthesia. Lets just say he was somewhat less perky. In fact his first words, croaked out amid screams of agony were "You are savages! You are savages and you are torturing me!!!". The dire imprecations that he hurled at the nurses were softened somewhat by his swollen throat and general grogginess, as they later confided that they had thought he was calling them "sandwiches".



Since the operation, he's been out of school and largely enjoying it. He's had a pile of new books to read, more TV to watch than he has in the previous five years combined, and visits from neighborhood kids bringing him icecream. Over the weekend, even his much loved first grade teacher Mrs Flanagan stopped by to chat and gave him a joke book and a star wars guide. The downside for conor has been the near constant throat pain that he has been enduring. The downside for the rest of us has been (i) his carrion scented breath, and (ii) his inability to swallow has necessitated (to his mind) his carrying around a small pink plastic dish that he refers to as "my spittoon". It comes to the dinner table. It sits by his bedside. It rests, precariously, on the couch as he reads. It is beyond gross, and I say this as the family member who has been permanently deputized to clean up after our elderly neighbor's spastically-coloned cat.




OK, now, how to link this to the cupcakes. Ummmmm, yeah. Well, Lisa made these for a friend of a friend's daughter's 3rd birthday party. From what I understand, she likes princesses, so Lisa made some snow white heads and tiaras out of fondant.

Sorry readers, i think you're just going to have to accept inapposite pastry photos as I go through the backlog of the last few years.