Around the House,  Marriage Confessions

Blind Optimism

I was going through some uncharted kitchen cabinets a few weeks ago preparing for my yard sale when I came across these monogrammed pastry boxes that I ordered a couple years ago.

I ordered these boxes during a William Sonoma end of season sale.   I was still a newlywed and Chris and I had just moved from Florida to Connecticut to start our lives together.   At the time, I envisioned myself baking hundreds of different sweet treats and boxing them up in my own personalized pastry boxes and giving them out to friends.   Maybe macaroons to Chris’ boss.   Maybe peanut butter blossoms to our neighbors.   Maybe biscotti to our petsitter.

Blind optimism.   That’s what that’s called.   Blindly believing in the endless possibilities of those empty white boxes.

Now, years later, my baking cards are on the table.   And I’ve been dealt a crappy hand.   I burn.   I curdle.   I crisp.   I blacken.   But I do not bake.   And yet I find myself still reaching for these monogrammed pastry boxes every so often in hopes that maybe – one day – I will bake something gift worthy.

And tonight it happened.   Behold!   Edible blueberry muffins!

I spent three hours arranging these muffins in their box.   I picked the most perfect muffins to go on top.   I crinkled the tissue paper so that it looked natural.   Martha Stewart natural.   And tomorrow I will give these to my friend Catherine because I know that she will be just as excited to get them as I am to give them.

Blind optimism.   It may take years, but eventually it pays off.

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