I must confess the prospect of making a wedding cake is much more intriguing, enticing, than the potentiality of encountering the Slutsky Equation on Tuesday's exam. The evidence: my marginalia, above.
At Bo's wedding this winter, one of the highlights was AJ's sister's recounting of her wedding cake odyssey. She sang, muse, of the twists and turns of the food blogs, the Scylla and Charybdis of sweetness and crumb, the false allure of red velvet cake. Driven time and again off course. In the end, the recipe came through Bowman's mother, via a friend who was also standing in the room - a touching affirmation of home-sweet-home and mother-knows-best.
Perhaps this petit wedding cake quest of my own is just procrastination (martial video tutorials on cake frosting are, indeed, strangely soothing, see below). And so, in that case, I may be more like Penelope: inventing and reinventing this cake to pass the time, a project to keep the Mundell-Flemming Model and its breatheren at bay for as very long as possible.
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