Hot! Choc! Cupcakes.

Last night marked my first cupcake-making venture of the new year. I was largely inspired by a cookbook of my mom's that I had spotted on Wednesday, Krystina Castella's eye-catching Crazy About Cupcakes. "More than 300 recipe and design ideas," trumpets the back cover. Whoa. No joke! The book is chock full of some of the tastiest-sounding recipes and coolest decorations that I've seen in all of cupcakedom. Where to begin?

My brother Ryan chose my First Creation at random: Hot Chocolate cupcakes. Here are some scenes from their making.

Adjustments.

-I didn't have yogurt, so I substituted sour cream instead. (I found this Q&A on a cooking website just now... hahah.)
-I had only the very last bit of some store-bought whipped cream on hand, so I just stuck marshmallow frosting, marshmallows and a dusting of cocoa powder on top. Still very yum.

Observations, commentary, blah blah.

Chocolate cupcake + marshmallows on top = Hot Choc. So simple, it's brilliant. The color of the cupcake wasn't quite the rich hot-chocolatey brown that I was expecting, though. Perhaps that had something to do with the sour cream (?). Also, I found the marshmallow frosting fun to make, but tricky to spread due to its extreme gooey-ness. Consider yourself warned.

Doo, doo, doo, lookin' out my front door

First, linkage. Emily D. sent me a link to this NY Times article yesterday -- a really sharp Op-Ed piece concerning 21st century Peace Corps and some of its weaknesses. The author's assessments are hard-hitting, sensible and realistic. This should be a real wake-up call to Peace Corps Washington.

I'm in agreement. It's time to give PC a makeover.
The question is, I guess, will anyone in Washington get the memo?

Also: IT'S SNOWING! I get really excited whenever it snows -- the novelty hasn’t worn off quite yet. It's gorgeous (and COLD) outside. Tetenses, Maputenses, Brasileiros, qualquer pessoa que nunca viu a neve: dá uma olhada.

All in a day's... something

Yesterday can be broken up into roughly three parts, all of which I'm sure will shock and amaze:

I. Sleeping and dozing

II. Sorting and cleaning (at home)

III. Yelling and cheering (at the hockey game)

The sleeping part was pleasant, with the "cold house/warm covers" combo and the 8 uninterrupted hours of rest stuff going on. Alaska is a GREAT place for sleeping, let me tell you. Hibernation station.  Maybe I'm still caught up in being Comparey McMozambican-Comparerson. Really, though, there's something delightful about not waking up at 6 AM with beads of sweat already forming on my brow and my head pulsating with the bass line from next door.

Sorting and cleaning: I've been needing to do this for a while. Two and a half weeks' worth of a while, in fact. Today was The Day. It's amazing the things you find in your house after three years' absence -- time capsule city. Amongst the rescued party: a rockin' yellow terry cloth sweatband! A photo of 10 year old me and Hillary Clinton! A handmade, gold spray painted TV on the Radio patch! My cat! Chanel sunglasses! Tampons! What fun. Maybe I'll uncover a few more long-lost treasures in the pre-NYC weeks to come.

After a hard day's sortin', it was time to have quasi-family-time and go to the Aces game with my dad. (Quick digression here: I love hockey. Seriously. LOVE IT. As far as American diversions go, The Hockey Game has usurped the hallowed place of Ye Olde Indie Rock Show in my life for the time being. Quite simply, there are lots of fun, exciting Aces games and not a whole lot of fun, exciting indie rock shows in Anchorage.)  Solid skating and some beautiful assists in the first two periods, and then, ppffffftttttt, the defensive line absolutely fell apart at the end of the third period. 5-4 Stockton (opposing team) in sudden death; exeunt me and Pops. Boo! But, fun nonetheless.

Y'know, come to think of it, I lied. There was absolutely nothing shocking or extraordinary about yesterday. 

It was just good.

First post. This one's gonna hurt

Coming back to the States "for good" after three trying, beautiful, zany years in southern Africa would be, by anyone's measure, f-ing weird. And so far, I must say, it IS. Really. F-ing. Weird.

I still feel very much the outsider -- the stereotypically out-of-the-loop, recently returned Peace Corps kid who doesn't quite know her place yet. Who, most likely, will have to eke out an entirely new place for herself through that nebulous, drawn-out process called Reintegration. I have been back for a mere thirteen-point-five days. Already, I can't help but feel that I'll start to readapt to American life better if I have and follow (however loosely) some sort of game plan.

Reintegration game plan = What I always do, 2008 edish'. 

Bake cupcakes. Conjugate verbs. Dance. Read. Get crafty. Be musicky. And... 

Write. 

I feel I have much to catch up on after my 38 months in Mozambique -- much to see and do, process and feel. Lucky for me, I happen to have just a bit of catching-up time at my disposal before I scamper off in a new direction. And now, ta-dah! My very own, brand-new, shiny happy blog (whatever that is). Então vamos.