Unlocking certain mysteries. There's a picture on our kitchen wall of my Uncle Sam (Garrard) on his second birthday with this luscious, almost cloud-like white-iced cake. This frosting, ever since I was a child, has haunted me. Because it is the stuff that dreams are made of, and I'd overheard horror stories of how difficult it would be to recreate. After my father and I recently had a couple failed attempts, it took a few months for me to finally come to my senses and actually make that candy thermometer investment. I quit searching in southern cookbooks and on the internet for it. Because none of those folks know what the heck they're talking about. And thanks to my Aunt Susan, this confectionary dream of mine has been realized. Now these dreams can be passed on to my babies. Let's just hope the third one doesn't turn out to be diabetic: I've been eating so much cake this week.

On another exciting note: Isaac (who will probably not appreciate me talking about this later on), CONGRATULATIONS on being toilet-trained! You have no idea how proud you have made your parents.

It's not everyday that a 50's winter starlet (with the most unusual mullet) comes to visit you while you sleep. Please show some courtesy and wake up. Or else she may get you with her coat hanger.

A light dusting of snow, and Isaac has to pick up some sticks and play the part of the intimidator in his hoodlum Transformer coat. What is it with sticks and boys?