I was so excited to try out my first fire truck cake for my nephew's 3rd birthday party. I was however unprepared for a few things, time and red. So often on a DIY channel people only want to know how about the perfection of anything. Sometimes it can be a process that takes trial and error. I found making a beautiful cake times time.
I though that 3 hours would be plenty to finish off the fondant for a cake I made the previous night. I was wrong. I spent 4 hours and was not as happy with the execution as I would have liked. Firstly, the fondant I created was a marshmallow fondant. Tastier but I just couldn't perfect the recipe. It was too soft and not stiff enough to create the nice seamlessness I wanted.
Then I had issues with the red or actually lack of red. That ate up the majority of my time. In order to make the fondant as fire engine red as possible, I used 3 bottles of food gel. Yikes! It was a long time of pink, pinkish, then it became corral, and finally got the engine fire red I needed.
At first I was trying to mix with my bare hands and that was a no-no. I had lovely pinky palms at the party. I had the same issue with the gray color I wanted. The fondant was shades of purple even with the black food gel and then just turned black. I kept it black but was disappointed because I really wanted gray so that the Oreo cookies could stand out.
I finished off by decorating with peanut M&Ms because the last birthday we had, turned out that it was the first time my nephew had ever eaten them and he had such a sweet tooth for them that I had to put it on his birthday cake too.
I'm not quite ready to do a DIY on this until I can figure out the fondant and allow myself a generous amount of time. But as a first attempt, I am happy with it. What do you think of this fire truck cake? Yay? Nay? (Oh, that grass swipe in the first picture was by kid who couldn't manage to grab a M&M.)
I am such a sucker for learning and so was sad to see my drawing class was over, how fast 8 weeks fly. But in that amount of time I learned a lot and was able to accomplish quite a bit. I am attempted to write an Instructable summarizing what I learned but I've got a few other projects to focus on first. (There's a cake to build for tomorrow's birthday party.) Here's a few of my favorite pieces. Included was my finalized project which is a huge 18x36 picture of me as Thor. Yes, strange to crop my head onto a toy Thor doll but, I'll explain why in my ible.
Welcome to my blog! I'm so excited that I have found myself and that you have also found me. It's good to know, I am not alone on this journey of DIYs. (And it's not just about Doing It Yourself.) It's about the stories behind the DIYs and about trekking across the vast, expanding interverse (internet universe). Sometimes I will stop to mediate and other times we will run appropriately. I'm not so good at dancing, but if you want to teach me 2 steps, you can after we seesaw on a camel's back. Come on, let's go, time is patiently waiting and I don't want to grow too old.
When I created my first online magazine entry on my sugarloot.com page, I began with the words to inspire through a self-created random act of kindness week. A random act of kindness is something so inspiring in itself in that we could essentially change the world with one simple act. So when it came time to start this blog, I wanted to push it more. And what I came up with was nothing, absolute nothing but the desire to create with no inspiration to get my fingers moving across this keyboard. Then in a series of fortunate events, I come to realize that my long wait for a muse was over.
In my drawing class we are reading The Undressed Art: Why We Draw by Peter Steinhart. In Chapter 9, appropriately titled, "Waiting for a Muse," Steinhart concludes that there is really no such thing as a muse, an artist simply draws and continues to draw and the art will work itself out. As someone who uses muses to create works, I found myself not on the same line as him.
While it may be true that others simply keep working to create something, I have often found myself in the zone when I have a muse. Having taken long hiatus from drawing, I realize what I missed was a muse. A muse to inspire my best works, where I could just watch myself creating something profound whether it be writing or another form of art.
I once read a book about monologues, a subject I never even thought much about. Shortly after, there is ease in watching the muse takeover my hand and seeing how a blank page becomes a 3 minute monologue. I have no real clue what I am doing until it's done. Then I step back and my analytical brain takes over; a lady whose best friend is cheating on her. But in this monologue, the clues, if you listen carefully, you realize something else is amiss. How brilliant to step aside, and allow the muse to takeover! Surely in my own writings I could never write as good of a piece even though I am all about themes and trying to understand how stories and art echoes tone.
Of course it doesn't always end perfectly. There is still revisions to be done in my part. But the good bone, it's all there. In anything beautiful, good bones makes for greatness. Take a look at Twilight written by Stephanie Meyer. Did a muse not visit her in a dream and feverously allow her to create one of the best selling modern teen romance series? I am sold on a muse.
That said, my thank you gift to my drawing class for bringing me inspirations was a bunch of sweet cupcakes. The highlight of them were my Muddy Delight Cupcake Cones made with chocolate pudding inside. In my culture we often give thanks through food. Cupcakes in class, someone was convinced there was a birthday. I just smiled. Isn't the birth of a muse worth celebrating? It's enough for me to keep typing on my keyboard because now, now I know that the journey has begun.
Artistic Philosophy: There are two concepts in art: the world as we see it and the world we see within. Somewhere between the two is an interpretation of beauty in harmonious synchronicity that play to our hearts, a calling that transcends time.
Awards Won from Contests:
1st Place FSUSD 9-12th Book Contest
1st Place FSUSD Poster Contest
Grand Prize YAZ My Skin Design Contest
Grand Prize Client' Photo "Break the Mold" Contest
1st Place Sugarloot's Best Self Portrait Contest
1st Place Sugarloot's Simple Plan Meez Contest
1st Place Ceehive's Valentine's Day Contest
1st Place Fila's "How Do You Fila" Contest
1st Place Instructable.com's "Snow" Contest
2nd Place 96.5 KOIT's "Wicked Halloween Costume" Contest
Excerpt from Short Story "Natural Winds"
I was outside playing alone late one afternoon when I spotted the blue bully. His head was jammed under a dark baseball cap in addition to the same blue jacket he always wore. But I could not get to him. He was reluctantly tagging behind his pregnant mother who was pushing a squeaky, fall-apart stroller. Slouched uncomfortably inside the stroller was his big baby sister. I watched as his mother’s long brown skirt shook in the early winter winds. Each strained step was an effort to roll her belly stone forward. Even with the winds, I could still hear the belly thumping into the cement. They were probably out to get some groceries, most likely milk for the overgrown sister. As I continued to watch the three against the winter winds, I re-remembered something; the boy did not have a father. The natural winds subsided in me and I ran home to Dao.
Poem
Burning Stick
A stick, a stick, what is a stick but a dead branch.
Ah,
light it on fire and it burns like a torch,
a torch so bright, so many days & nights.
Run we shall & run we have.
Through the doors, now swung
OPENed, an eye staring widely at me. That pyramidal eye.
Speak to me of your means & intentions.
What of ANUIT COEPTIS. Who is He
who has approved of your undertaking?
Across the globe, a plain,
a plain of great Jars scattered among a million
mines. Still waiting to claim those who dare to pass,
And pass into the astral world they go.
No one speaks of truth among Stonehenge.
And a whole world disappeared. Tell me why
the blood still runs thick on the granite stones.
Were they merely bodies or were they souls?
Here They kicked a ball. The ball rolled & rolled
& time unfolded. A speck of spark did fly.
And flew it did, to mortals it stayed.
Of ashes, of earth, like clay we were made.
The fire that burns, because we are lit on fire, is how
deep & dark the red of my blood flame. And I
still running wild, a burning stick.
