Just a quickie post to let all my millons of dedicated readers know that I just recieved my certificate of acceptance from the University of “Area I live”. 

CONGRADULATIONS to ME ! ! ! ! ! ! !

So, off I go to orientation, picking courses, paying tuition, school supply shopping (is it wrong of me to love school supplies?), and schedule planning.  This new year is going to be absolutely crazy.  But fortunatly for me I do crazy well.

Speaking of school, I just came to me that almost every member of my family is in or going into post-secondary education this year.

Oldest Sis – Web and graphic design

2nd Sis – University of “Area I live”, Bachelor of Science

Twin - Continuing to train for her commercial pilots liscense

Me – University of “Area I live” – B.A in Psycology, and finishing my certificate in cake decorating

Brother – “Area we live” police force training (Soon to be the person in charge for giving me speeding tickets and stopping me from killing endangered things! )

2nd youngest sis – Not sure, I’ll ask her.  I think she wanted to go for business.

Youngest sis – graduating grade 12 this year.

Oh ya, look out world us “my last name”’s are taking over

This weekend I was in fine form in the kitchen.

Flour covered the counters, egg’s, butter, vanilla, and chocolate decorated the tables.  I baked long and hard, untill I was sure that I could mass produce incing sugar with a mere thought, or that shell borders flowed from my hands like spidermans web. 

Oh it was a glorious site to behold, the intensely passionate ritual that is the combining of raw product to create something divine.  The sacrificing of ones individuality for the greater good.  Cakes, beautifull delectable cakes.

I have posted the fruits of my labor here.  Look to the right, under Cakes.  The 3 new cakes made this weekend are entitled Carron, CoCo, and Roberta.

Note:  I must give credit to Twin for helping form the marzipan into carrots.  Allthough she does not enjoy baking she was still willing help me in my little endeavour.  Yep, she loves me.

I found it. 

Yes sir ladies and gents, having searched high and low I have finally pin-pointed the cause of that extra pound or two that has recently taken up residence on my body.

Behold, I give you the Maple Macchiatto. 

In reality this post should be called the 310 calorie addiction, but I couldn’t bear to see “310 calories” in bold letters everytime I looked at the site.

A few weeks ago, (okay okay more like a few months) I was going out for coffee with a friend whom had suggested we go to Starbucks.  Usually this is not our coffee shop of choice, but in the spirit of trying something new we decided to go. 

I stood there for a few minutes gazing dumbfoundly at the array of options available to me.  At our old coffee joint I knew what I like, here I had no clue.  I was lost, some drinks sounded normal, some classy, some trashy, some ridiculous, and some even sounded like they truly were trying to be a healthy beverage.  Drinks like ‘chai iced tea latte’, and ‘green tea lemonade’ or ‘pumpkin spice frappucinno light blended coffee’, becuase let’s face it the “light” makes all the difference.

After standing around for about 5 minutes, looking like a complete coffee amatuer, I decided the decission was much to daunting for me.  So I asked the brista to pick one for me.  As you may have guessed, she suggested the above drink that has since become the arch-enemy of my treadmill, the villian of all things spandex and the absolute love of my drinking life.

The taste, the smell, the lovely froth of steaming milk floating atop an endless blissfull sea of what can only be discribed as an euphoric pairing of coffee, maple and milk. 

Absolute heaven.

Anyway, about a month or two later I decided to do a little research on my new love. 

BIG MISTAKE. 

I went to the website, choose my drink of choice and then BAM, without warning the numbers appeared. 

Maple macchiatto, tall = 240 calories, grande =310, and venti =410. 

For a brief second my heart stopped, and I could feel my taste buds wail out in protest.  310 calories for 1 drink, that’s absolute suicide.  What kind of demented individual decided that coffee needed the same amount (if not higher) caloric value as donuts and french fries ??????  Just thinking about it is getting me mad. You think you know, but you don’t, you think you can trust but you can’t, you think that all is safe inside the world of froth and steam, but it’s not.  Oh no it’s not, inside lies an entire army of weight creating minions ready to lull you into false security and then pouce when your the most vulnerable.  I can hear them now, plotting and planning, oh yes planning. 

But dear readers never fear, for I to have a plan, a plan that I will put in effect immediatly. A plan that will ensure I win this little war. 

What is this plan you ask?  Simple!  I’ll kill all those little plotting minions!!!! Brillant you say.  Why thank you.  How? you ask.  Easy, I’ll drowned them ! ! ! !

“Good afternoon, what can I get for you?”

“I’ll have a Maple Macchiatto, grande please!” 

Heaven, simply heaven.

It’s a little disheartening when the sister you were always just a little smaller then has turned into the sister that you are just a little bigger then.

How much bigger?  Well, just enough to ensure that any articles of clothing that fit her perfectly will look too tight on you.

This has become the situation between me and Twin. We went shopping this weekend and each ended up buying a few things. (Well actually I bought us both a few things, but that’s a whole different story.  Lets just say that Twin is lucky to have me for a . . . well a twin:)

She picked out a lovely black shirt/dress.  It had 3/4 length sleves, buttons all down the front, was rummpled in all the right places and had a cute little belt attached.  The top of the shirt looks drop dead gorgeous on the Twin and gives her a powerfully independent, yet sutley seductive look.  The shirt matched with her amazing “choppy” hairstyle is a force to be reckoned with.

When I saw her in it at the store I knew that we had found a winner.  I was sooooooo excited to go home and put it on.  I waited 2 days before asking if I could wear the shirt. Being that Twin is such a nice person she happly agreed.

I was THRILLED.  I grabbed the shirt, unbuttoned it and pull my arms through the sleves, so far so good.  Then I began to button it up.  The top two buttons were not problem, then I began to trek further down. The third button, the fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh.  Further still with the eight and ninth all the way down past the hips untill the shirt ended mid/lower thigh. I didn’t want to look in the mirror, I could feel and see enough to know that the shirt was too tight.  I wanted to hold on to the hope, no the dream that it looked as phenominal on me as it did on Twin.

Slowly I made my way to the mirror, Twin was waiting there for me.  One look at her face, the light twinkle in her eyes and the start of a “I’am not about to laugh” laugh playing on her lips and I knew the truth.  Bracing myself, I turned to see, to have proof of the dreadfull fact that was staring me in the face, (or rather in the belly/hips/thigh area:)).

The buttons were pulling away from each, as if in protest.  I looked in the mirror, then I looked at Twin and smiled.  “Well, ” I said in a melancholy voice  “It’s a little snug,” was her reply.  (A little tight !!!! There’s an understatment. Bless her heart.)

I’ve known for months now that Twin was losing weight and therefore beating me in the size department.  But that day, in that shirt/dress the full extent of the phrase “your only a few pounds more then me” hit me.  I’ve been telling Twin that for years, ever since we were kids I had been the smaller one.  Now the tables have turned. I don’t like it. No not one bit.  I think now would be an excellent time to lace up the sneakers and jog like a mad women.

Look out Twin, I ready to take back my right full place in this relationship. 

Were’s the treadmill ?