The mysterious and certainly fantastic powers of frosted baked goods

I am an absent-minded sort of a person. I know this. It's always been true. So I take steps to make sure that my absent-mindedness does not mess with my personal and professional lives.  I make notes to myself. I carry small notebooks with me always in case I need to write something down. I keep a calendar. I have a variety of post-it notes and notepads on the desk, configured in an arcane and alchemical system of organization that makes sense only to me.

And sometimes not even then.

"Cupcake blog" is scrawled in green ink on the lower right-hand corner of the list of things I need not to forget about but do not need to give immediate attention to. Cupcake blog.

You guys, I don't even know. I mean, I like cupcakes. I love dessert, and cheery frosted baked goods, well, they're an excellent thing. And I do tend to bake when I'm stressed because it lets me do a task which is easily completed, so I get to feel proud that I have finished something, and then I get to eat the delicious cupcakes. And I have been (and am) pretty stressed, recently. It is a time of crazypants business at my day job, and also the hard reality that in three months, I will not have a day job, and the likelihood that a school is out there who wants to hire a medievalist who can also teach Shakespeare and fantasy literature and creative writing for the upcoming academic year is getting increasingly small. And also, I am writing a lot of things. So, stress.

But I have not been looking at cupcake recipes, and this is not a baking blog. I don't have any cupcake posts in my file of links to send to Jen for Fantastically Fun Fridays over at Fantasy Matters. I have absolutely no earthly idea why I wrote that note to myself. (Maybe it was a suggestion that I should write a blog asking people to send me cupcakes? Yes. That must be it. I will also accept gifts of chocolate.)

I am afraid the secrets of the universe are baked into red velvet somewhere, and I cannot find them.