"Think left and think right and think low and think high. Oh, the thinks you can think up if only you try!" - Dr Seuss

This is going to be a shorter post for a change - I say this now, it might get longer as I go on.

I'm home for the summer earlier than most people and have university friends dotted across the globe at the moment. I have a large amount of free time on my hands (I'll expand on how I'm going to use it in another post) but I have spent a lot of it talking to old home friends or my friends across the world. In a lot of my conversations and debates I keep coming to the same, more general conclusion about thought and mankind. 

I believe that mankind is constantly striving for an understanding of human nature (and the world at large), but I am not certain whether this understanding can be achieved. I've mentioned before how complex I think human beings are - can we really break ourselves down to a simple, all-encompassing formula? From the perspective of someone at university, I often focus on the fact that everyone has decided upon different subjects, and I see these subjects as people's different approaches to understanding ourselves. For example, in Art History lectures we're constantly reflecting upon the human condition using a variety of works - from the extremes of Caspar David Friedrich to Mark Rothko. When I took Psychology, we were assessing humans from all angles - developmental, social, neurological. Yes, all of these subjects have different approaches but we are after the same thing - a greater understanding of ourselves. And whilst we're doing this, we are creating our own ideas to get tangled in but at the same time, we are also reflecting upon the ideas of other people - there is a never ending spiral of thought. Since time immemorial, we have been trying to understand ourselves and have a wealth of academic discussion, art, technological development etc. as a result. Yes, many historical figures felt that they had discovered a pure truth and that their theory defied all others - just think of the style of Nietzsche's writing and have a chuckle to yourself. But, I think it can be argued, that no one has found the one answer, theory, equation to cancel all others. If they had we would not be continuing in our endeavours. So, sometimes, it seems to me that we are constantly searching for an understanding, from all angles, but maybe this truth cannot be unearthed in this manner?

I wouldn't see this as a negative thing or cause to give up on our efforts. There is so much personal gain to be made from trying to understand human nature. I just think of the euphoria I felt when I first read the work of T.S. Eliot, or the personal understanding upon standing before the work of Van Gogh. These experiences are not a waste. This is going to sound horrendously nerd-ish, but there are real transcendental moments in academia. Furthermore, perhaps the answer is to change our approach to accessing an understanding of mankind? I still think humans are far too complex to be broken down by an all encompassing theory. However, further insight can be gained by potentially combining the approaches of numerous theories. At university, especially in philosophy classes, I have been so often encouraged to come down on one side of the argument and promote it entirely. I frequently do not do this and get reprimanded. But, I think doesn't that just show some sort of greater understanding? I appreciate that no theory can defy all others - that's why there are conflicting theories. Would it not be more sensible to draw from numerous theories or in proposing a theory admit that there may be other possibilities?

I'm sure the idea I have been proposing is in itself is flawed - sometimes it's much more succinct to just come down on the side of one idea. Furthermore, there are numerous people out there who are convinced that one theory is undeniable, for example ardent Kantian philosophers. Still, this is not a perfect thought and will probably need some tweaking over time - it was just a constant conclusion I needed to express.

Change Your Mind

This blog has become somewhat serious recently and I quite like it. My latest post produced a lot of conversations for me - notably, I was contacted by an acquaintance who thanked me for sharing my experience as they related to it, and as a result we have now become friends. So I'm glad that it came to something - and it shows that if you put yourself out there people can reach out in return.

This year has been about change and a time of extensive personal growth, so naturally I think the tone of my blog followed.
With that focus in mind, this post has come about.
I was talking to a friend earlier who drew attention to one of the changes in my lifestyle this year - I have started drinking alcohol again after roughly four years without it. I realised that I have not really discussed this change with anyone or properly articulated my feelings about it. So, as it often goes, a talk with a friend has led to another blog post.

I made the decision to not drink alcohol when I was sixteen (not that I'd had much experience of it before then). The events that triggered this decision were the deaths of my great aunt and uncle. I think I've only come to realise the extent of my pain regarding this subject and the true nature of my response to it.

I was particularly distressed by the nature of their deaths. My great uncle was the first to die (probably a result of his drinking and smoking habits) and my aunt struggled to handle caring for him towards the end of his life, which led her to drinking more. On the final night of my great uncle's life he was taken in to hospital and died early the next morning. My aunt was unable to be with him because she was too drunk to go in the ambulance with him. My uncle died alone in an unfamiliar place. I was aware of my anger towards my aunt at the time (something I now see as not completely reasonable because she was in an emotional state that could not handle the severity of the situation) and my distress over the nature of the nature of my uncle's death and the rest of my aunt's life (which consisted of further drinking to cope with being without him). However, I do not think I completely engaged with my feelings.

I believe that in my mind, in a very simple sense, I created a link between drinking and pain. It was something strongly negative for me. Therefore, I decided to not drink alcohol myself. I think I made this decision because of my bad association, but also because I felt I was in some way compensating for the nature of my uncle's death. I was so upset that he had to be alone that I vowed to never let that happen to anyone else.

Now I can see that this was not the best way to cope with my feelings. I masked my pain by focusing my energies on not drinking. I was also solely concentrating on the sad endings of their lives by taking this negative response. I did not focus on happy memories from my childhood - walking their dogs in the summer, having them over for christmas, listening to music in my family living room. I also disconnected from their characters - my uncle's wicked humour, my aunt's sweet nature (they both had such wonderful laughs). I was not taking in the whole picture anymore - I fixated on the sadness.

However, last summer things began to change. My family has most of their possessions and we have been sorting through them. This began to remind me of their lives as a whole. If I could use one word to describe them it would be 'joy'. There was such a pure joy and contentment surrounding them - to be near them was to be part of a constant celebration of life. I also began to talk about them and their deaths with people. I explored my emotions properly. I only really discussed them with my parents and I had neglected preserving a positive memory of them. I particularly remember walking through Rome with a tutor from the art history course I took last year - I had to describe them to someone who did not know them and began to remember how important it is to share them and celebrate their lives. Through things like this, I began to break away from my attitude towards alcohol and my sadness over them (naturally I will always be sad about them but not to such an extent).

This past academic year, as many know, has been hard. One evening I got particularly upset and went for the extreme response, which resulted in drinking a lot with some friends. Once again, I was associating drinking with pain. I thought it would be a good way to escape my distress for an evening. I have not drunk that much since - although by the standards of some other students I was hardly drinking anything. Afterwards I realised that it was a silly response to my sadness (hence not letting it happen again), but also took some time to reflect upon it.

I realised that the link with my aunt and uncle, and my pain had diminished since I had made the decision to not drink. My decision was something that I no longer had to cling to. I found that I could finally let go. I think we can often get caught up in our own patterns of behaviour and forget why we do them. It is positive to challenge yourself and see whether what you are doing is necessary anymore. I realised that four years was enough and that I was not properly engaging with my feelings - just hiding behind a lifestyle choice. Furthermore, it was not a particularly positive choice as it reinforced my focus upon the negative.

Now I am able to recall the positive memories of my aunt and uncle, and also go to the pub with friends from time to time.

To be honest, I think I'd still prefer a good cup of coffee but am developing an appreciation for a soothing glass of wine or a sweet cider.

'No one can make you feel inferior without your consent'

When blogging I think there is always a degree of personal information that comes out. In my opinion, the best work is somewhat emotional - how can you write well and passionately about something if you aren't invested in it?

This post is something I have been playing with in my mind for a while. I have been mulling over my exact focus, details and overall tone. Do I want to go there? Do I want to keep more of this confined to my diary? (Yes I have a personal diary - which is facing some neglect whilst I blog - still, that's for knowledge I would never make public). 

As some people reading this will know, this year has been rough. A long romantic relationship came to an end and due to circumstances everything was not closed off in one go - more like an earthquake with painful aftershocks. I recently found the hilarious question 'On a scale of 1 to Adele how bad was it?' Yeah, this was an 'Adele'. I'm not going to delve in to the details of the collapse (that's between myself and the guy concerned - who, despite everything, I don't want to hurt). In fact, I'm not really going to write about him. I don't want this to be a bitter reflection or uninhibited attack - I'll always value what we had and maintain the respect I had for him during our time together. It's easy to walk away and brand the other person as an unspeakable monster, but I think people forget there was something that drew you to them in the first place and you did have the joy of sharing something special with them - unless they did something unforgivable like eat the final peanut butter cookie - then brand away!

As I noted at the beginning of this post, there have to be considerations of what you want to make public. What purpose could it serve? In this case, I think I could certainly get away with not sharing anything - save it for my private pages. Naturally, as I stated earlier, I'm not going in to the painful details. However, I think it is worthwhile that I engage with this. It could help someone in the future and serves as a concrete reminder for me. So, I aim for this to be a source of strength, not sadness.

A while ago I had a conversation with a friend about the books we were reading. I'm still going strong with 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being' (sadly reading has to be saved as a treat between pieces of coursework so I still haven't finished it). I was telling my friend that I had come to the worrying realisation that I strongly relate to the character Tereza. She is a woman who cannot cope with her husband's infidelity and is essentially, systematically bullied by all the other characters. Honestly, I relate with her on more of a philosophical level than a situational one - her thoughts and views are strikingly familiar. However, this discussion led my friend to jokily ask whether I felt bullied by everyone. At the time I laughed and responded that I didn't (which I would like to clarify I still don't - I have numerous wonderfully kind friends) but the question did trigger some thought.

Upon reflection I realised that my friend's question had raised a deeper enquiry within me about how I felt in relation to other people. (On a side note, it's quite amazing how one question can take you to thoughts completely removed from the initial enquiry.) I certainly don't feel bullied by people, but I think this year I have felt that I must prove my worth to others.

The way the previously mentioned relationship ended resulted in a crippling feeling of worthlessness that I don't think I could ever fully articulate. I understand that not sharing details makes this harder to understand but I'd rather not have them floating around the internet. Essentially, the way things ended sent me the message that there was no care or respect for me - which, sadly, resulted in my losing a large amount of respect for myself. If I look back on the time following the relationship ending, I see that I have not been completely myself for a long time and at the beginning my confidence was so shot I was a bit of a ghost. I believed the message that I was worthless, and I accepted that other people would think I was too.

At the beginning of this academic year I was afraid. I would purposefully avoid people and kept my head down. Specifically, I remember approaching a lecture where I saw a group of people I knew standing in front of the building and thinking 'What if they know? What if they know that I'm not worth their time?', before taking a ridiculous route around the side of the building to slip in to the back of the lecture theatre alone. This is pretty laughable when I read it back, but at the time that fear was horribly real - I was so scared that other people would reinforce the message I had been given. I cut myself off because I believed that I had nothing to offer people. As a result, I spent a fair amount of this year feeling that I had to prove I was worth other people's time and fight what I saw to be the horrible conclusion they would all reach.

Whilst doing this, I came to realise that I was in fact fighting myself. I thought I was trying to prove myself to every one else, but I was really reintroducing myself to 'me'. On a more positive note, I frequently got the pleasant surprise of new friends and people who persevered with my reclusive behaviour. Through other people building me up, and the fact that I kept pushing myself to be 'brave' and face others I began to remember that I had something to offer. I was going down a completely deluded road (no one really thought badly of me) but it was one that started to restore me nonetheless.

Reading this back I can't tell you how angry I am with myself. At the time when I needed the most care and support, I bailed on myself. I let someone else determine how I feel about myself and what I deserve. I would be lying if I said I had no anger for this guy suggesting that I am worthless, but I am responsible for taking it on - I accepted it. So, back to the title of this blog - the wise words of Eleanor - 'No one can make you feel inferior without your consent'. I consented. And I so hope that no one else does. I hope that maybe anyone reading this can learn from my failing?

For someone to take away your strength is unreal. I believe in the extraordinary nature of humans - no one should ever feel that they do not have something to give to the world. We are all so complicated and interesting - think of even the five minute conversations you can have with strangers - you see just a glimpse of someone with an entirely new way of being that they could share with you. Everyone has their strengths and you should hold on to them even when the rest of the world is telling you that you have nothing to give.

So, among many things this year, I've learned to love myself. I let someone make me lose touch with myself. I believed their evaluation of me. And how ridiculous was I to do that? The person who knows you best is yourself - you know what sort of person you are and you know what you deserve. I can't stress enough that you should never let another person dictate those things for you - I spent far too long letting opportunities pass me by and hiding myself from the world because of ungrounded fear. I'm not entirely at peace with myself yet, but I don't think I've been so aware of myself in a long time. I am by no means a perfect soul (just spend a day with me when I haven't had enough sleep!) but I am worth your while if you enjoy being harassed with artistic knowledge and baked goods. If I was to get very 'hippyish' about this I would say that everyone has a sort of 'essence' to them, and it is usually what people really love about you, so treasure it and don't let it go missing.

I really wanted to write this to remind people to respect themselves. A lot easier said than done, but I thought if people could read about someone else's experience that may bring the message home in a different way. People often talk about 'losing themselves' - this is an easy thing to do but something I, and I hope anyone who reads this, could be more aware of in the future. 

Yada Yada Yada

I wrote this a while back and never got round to editing it, so this may actually seem like a long time ago - bizarrely, right now is my last afternoon of spring break (after two lecture-free weeks you think I'd have got on top of this?).

In a not so wise move on my part, I drank a latte at 9pm this evening to fire myself up and get through a tutorial reading. Here I am at 2am - utterly wired. I've undergone the recent discovery that I react pretty quickly and strongly to stimulants - I honestly can only have one cup of coffee a day (even something like a latte which is more milky) - any more and I'm off the wall. Still, this provides me with a golden opportunity to catch up on some blogging.

I was having a conversation with a friend the other day that left me a little shocked. I can't entirely remember why, but it came to the point where he said "Back home [he's from the States] it's not uncommon for a girl to sleep with five different guys during one week. It is embarrassing for her but it's seen as the norm." This seems rather extreme, but I think there is some truth in one night stands having become a norm - especially at university.

This is where my personality gets rather scrambled. I have some hippy-ish tendencies but when it comes to things like 'free love' I can't really go there. I want to clarify initially that just because I would not be inclined towards a one night stand, does not mean that I think any less of someone who would be - if they are comfortable and happy then that's fine - it is just not a situation I would want for myself. I think I appear rather outdated - especially for a university student - shouldn't I be going rampant or something right about now? Haha, quite the contrary - I'm home blogging whilst sat next to a tray of cinnamon rolls I just made.

Bluntly, I am only comfortable with sex in a committed romantic relationship. By contrast, I've been present for frequent recollections of one night stands or the discussions of whether it's acceptable to sleep with someone you don't really know. I've been building up different reflections about casual sex and my stance for a while and recently they appear to have come together so I thought I'd articulate some of my ideas.

I recently read an article and came across a concept I am particularly fond of. I wanted to make sure my understanding of this idea was right so I checked with a friend who is fluent in Hebrew and she confirmed it is correct. The Hebrew word 'yada', whilst having numerous meanings depending upon context, has one that I thought was striking. 'Yada' means 'to know', and in a sexual context, it can mean to know physically. The example my friend provided is that in the Old Testament if  it is mentioned that a woman becomes pregnant, it is often said that a husband knew his wife, and thus they conceived a child. I found this particular meaning to be rather beautiful. I think to engage with a person on that level is 'to know' them, and 'to know' them in a way that is unique and special to your relationship. When you think about it at a more basic level, it is special to know some people at all - just be acquainted or good friends with - it's regular for me to say 'I'm so glad I know you' to a friend. Then, there are degrees of knowing people - we all have that friend who knows exactly what we're thinking. However, (at least this is regular for me) it is rare to know people on a different level romantically. To 'know' someone in that way is unique - it is just between the two of you and is not shared with other people. I think 'yada' is a beautifully romantic concept.

Furthermore, I think this idea about 'knowing' suggests some sort of vulnerability and trust. To truly know someone, you both have to open up emotionally in a way that you would not in normal, every day conversation. With a lot of my closest friends defences have been stripped back and weaknesses are known. Playing on the word stripped here... But, yes to be physically close is to be vulnerable. So, surely this should happen with someone you know and trust?

This debate reminded me of a conversation I had with a friend over the summer about clubs. We concluded that in a club you are a body - you are not a person - and really should you settle for that? I get a similar feeling with one night stands - you're a body - you are purely physical. I think this seems sad when you come to understand how intellectually and emotionally extraordinary human beings are.

I thought I'd finish this post by recalling a rather silly conversation I had with my friend about the subject. During our discussion he said: 'Well, I'm open to it because everyone else seems to think it's okay'. My argument (which upon reflection I have realised was a pretty poor parallel) in return was: 'But if people just started murdering each other for no reason and everyone thought it was okay that doesn't mean you would'. His wonderful reply? 'Rachel, you can't really compare having sex and the slaying of innocent people. Although... I guess if you were a preppy guy you could talk about slaying some babes?'

So I leave you with that. The killing of the innocent and slaying some babes with your sexual prowess.

"Rachel, grow some balls"

If I was given a pound for every time the title of this blog post was said to me I reckon I would have enough money to acquire said balls, along with the rest of a sex change.

I've been home for two weeks (spring break!) and used my valuable time to meet up with the wise and wonderful of London. Essentially, lots of nattering over cups of coffee and mooching across the city with friends (random side note - go to the Lucien Freud exhibition hell or high water!)

During these discussions with friends the need for me to stop worrying about other people or 'grow a pair' has come up more than once. I wrote an earlier blog 'One plus one plus one plus one does not equal four' which covers this subject. This is a kind of follow-up to some further thinking - a more practical rather than philosophical musing.

There was a concept I learned about during Psychology A Level that pretty much covers what I'm like. It has been suggested that people have either an external or internal locus of control. If you have an external locus you regard what happens to you as depending upon things out of your control - so if you fail a test it's because the test is too hard or you were just unlucky that day. If you have an internal locus then you hold yourself responsible for events - if you fail a test it's your fault. I have an internal locus of control to the nth degree - I am my worst critic by a mile - everything is certainly my fault (we're working on this folks). Unfortunately, my internal locus also extends to other people. I am extremely conscious of other people's problems or imposing myself upon them.

My father's final words before I left home to travel back to university today - "Stop worrying about everyone else's bloody problems and focus on yourself"

What a sweetheart.

My sense of responsibility is ridiculous - but I am working on it. It takes time like anything else. However, I am proud of the fact that I think I've made a conscious effort towards having what my mum calls some 'sensible self-interest' and being more honest with people (not in the sense that I'm wandering around telling horrendous lies - 'Oh yeah, I'm engaged to Joseph Gordon Levitt - come to my wedding!' - more that I hold back sometimes and suppress). In this process I've become more open and relaxed - which, in turn, has led to my making some new and dear friends this year - essentially more crazed individuals who think and indulge in tea with me (I love nothing more than a cafe date).

So, this is not entirely negative - I think I have progressed.

Anyway, there was a particular point made during one of these coffee-sessions that I hadn't really considered before. These little ideas always help me and make me more comfortable with what I'm trying to achieve. I recently met with a tutor from the art history course I went on last summer (she's a goddess) and she has the incredible ability to make you feel wonderful on the crummiest day. This week she stressed to me that you really should speak your mind (had this drummed in to me by everyone!) but then also reminded me that if you say something you don't agree with on reflection, you can apologise for it - you can take it back. She's a teacher, and her example was that if she feels a student is not working hard she will call them lazy, and then if they work hard to prove her wrong, she can tell them she judged too quickly. Furthermore, she stressed that sometimes honesty (in this case in the form of criticism) is needed to bring good. Honesty can improve a situation, and upon that improvement you can retract your statement.

I had never thought of having the confidence (or balls) to say what I feel or stop concerning myself with other people so much as having a positive outcome. My worry about other people gets to the point where it can defeat itself - I try to avoid harm and then cause it in a round about way.

The phrase 'cruel to be kind' springs to mind. Of course, I think a part of me is always going to be measured and careful not to hurt people (it's how I was raised) but I can cut myself some slack.
Maybe, just maybe, I'll post a blog one day that I've finally managed to overcome my anxiety about upsetting others? I've already made progress. Or this could go horribly wrong and I'll end up publishing a post about how rude and unkind I've become!

Below is a song by Julia Nunes (one of my favourite youtube artists - she's a dream) called 'Grown a Pair'. Just thought it was a nice end to the subject!

Plans

First things first. Oh wow. 

This isn't really a blog about how beautiful Gabriel Byrne is. I just wanted to put something interesting here and yeah, he fits that criteria. 

I was having a 'reminisce about old films' moment with some friends the other day - some of the old classics I watched when I was younger. I remember always being a bit weak at the knees when Gabriel came on screen. He's so charming. Plus, as I will always assert, knowledge is sexy - so his character in 'Little Women' is insanely sexy. 

Still, more time for him later.

What this blog is really about is to firstly confirm that I have not died. 

Secondly, to just cover what ideas I've got going that I can now get round to writing. I've had insane amounts of work and extra curricular things to get on top of the first half of this semester. Naturally, whenever I don't have time to blog all of the ideas come pouring out of my head. So, what to expect now I have a break - blogs about altruism (I drive people crazy with debating this so I thought I'd get it all down on here), one night stands (this blog is really in the gutter isn't it?!), my first article for a group of feminist bloggers who have invited me to join them (so excited!!) and potentially some book reviews (I'm in the middle of reading about four books in one go and they're wonderful).

So happy break to all and I'll try to get on top of all my writing!

The Herman Project

I'm not sure how familiar people are with Herman the Friendship Cake. He's starting to circulate but there are a fair number of people who are unaware of him. Herman is a sourdough cake. However, you do not receive Herman in cake form - you receive Herman as cake mixture. Once receiving this mixture your task is set. You must keep the mixture (consisting of yeast, sugar, flour and milk) alive for nine days - some days you simply stir the mixture, others you add more ingredients. Once you've kept Herman alive for this long you divide the mixture in to quarters, giving away three - that's where the friendship part comes in - Herman is passed between friends who then pass the mixture on to other friends etc. The quarter you keep is what you bake for yourself.

When I received Herman I was over the moon. What a great idea - a small baking project for you to carry out (he honestly doesn't require that much maintenance) and a way to share something fun with your friends - well, certain friends - some of my nearest and dearest would happily kill Herman within days.

So, I started out with one batch of Herman - how did I end up with five cakes? As I said, Herman has circulated a lot, and by the time I had successfully got rid of my first batch, another container of Herman mixture arrived on my doorstep. I didn't particularly want to grow and share another Herman - I'd been a good friend with my first batch already right? - so I decided to carry out a project - my Herman Project. When I looked at the basic structure of Herman I realised this was something I could experiment with! I could add some ingredients, take others way - go crazy! Well... cake crazy - Rachel crazy.

The past couple of weeks, to the varying delight and torment of my housemates and friends, I have been forcing cake upon people. I've been dashing around St Andrews always laden with tupperware boxes full of cake begging people to eat it so it stops cluttering up my kitchen - it certainly made a recent Greenpeace meeting more chirpy and was the perfect addition to a catch up with an old friend!

Here we go, the many Hermans that have emerged over the past couple of weeks:


1. Regular Herman - pure and simple

This is the regular Herman that you are given instructions to make at the end of caring for the mixture. He is not the most elegant cake in the world but he was delicious. The regular Herman consisted of vanilla, cinnamon, apple and raisins. I made sure the apple chunks were especially large because soft, warm apple is so divine. I made the mistake of adding too much cinnamon to the mixture - making this cake quite spicy but, personally, I think that improved it. This mistake inspired the rest of my experiments - I think we often abide by recipes to the nth degree and forget how much fun it is to experiment with flavour - there's no one standing over you to make sure you follow the rules so go with your instincts!

2. Nuts and Spice Herman

This Herman consisted of vanilla, chopped mixed nuts and cinnamon. He was very much a case of creating a balance between sweet and spicy, seeing as the frosting on top was vanilla. He came out with a nice sweet flavour followed by a small spicy kick. This cake purely resulted from a rummage in my kitchen cupboards to see what I could experiment with.

3. Chocolate and Raspberry Herman

I'm sorry about the picture quality for this Herman - by the time I had remembered to document my efforts he had been attacked by my housemates. This Herman consisted of chunks of milk chocolate and raspberries. I made another mistake with this recipe that led to a new discovery - I added more vegetable oil than suggested, but as a result I ended up with a perfectly moist cake. This Herman was the perfect pick me up alongside a cup of tea after a heavy day at the library.

4. Banoffee Herman

This Herman was my monster. This cake got out of control. I've always loved banoffee pie and thought I'd experiment by replacing the pie factor with cake - it works out rather nicely - although I can appreciate the need for the subtle pie crust to tone down the sweet toffee, bananas and cream. Speaking of, I am tragically proud of whipping the cream for this cake all by myself!

5. Peanut Butter Herman

The final Herman consisted of a plain vanilla base with milk chocolate chunks which was then smothered in peanut butter frosting. I stand by the rule that peanut butter makes everything better - you can't go wrong with it. It's been an addiction since childhood - we Prossers aren't a family to buy lots of spreads but peanut butter is a constant in our cupboard (a minimum of three jars on the go). Making this frosting was a balancing act between getting enough of a peanut taste but not making it sickly sweet - I've epically failed with other peanut butter recipes before but this one turned out alright!



It's rather funny to look back on these monsters and think they all emerged from the same basic mixture.
However, a further reflection is that I don't want to look at another cake for months. Ugh. There is such a thing as a cake overload sadly.