Dear Diary,

Miraculously, I finished making the petits fours by 2:30 am!  I was so tired I didn’t even remember my walk home…  When I woke up, I was still wearing my apron and cooking clogs.  Anyway, the clock read 4:00 am.  Since I had to be back at work by 5:00 am,  I prepared myself for the day by making my “Dirty White” bread dough.  I call it “Dirty White” because I use whatever leftover whole wheat/spelt/barely/millet/oatmeal/corn/you name it flour I happen to have on hand.  The bread always ends up being a few shades darker (with a more developed flavor profile) than “pure” white bread!  I can admit I have a lust filled “need” for bread.  It satisfies something primal in me.  That’s why I knew I’d desperately want my “Dirty White” (slathered in melting butter with apricot jam) later…

When I got to work, my boss was packing the van for the “Young Ladies Tea” at the Mayor’s mansion.  I ran inside the bakery to store/hide my “Dirty White” dough.  I figured I’d have time to bake it after the tea party.  At the mansion, we went through the usual security stuff before being allowed into the Mayor’s kitchen.  There was a woman directing other servers on what to do.  She turned around and seemed to recognize me.  I didn’t recognize her.  Then she approached me and said, “Don’t I look amazing?  C’est moi, the Mayor’s wife!!!”  I tilted my head and realized she was the Mayor’s wife– only she was a lot less hefty.  I didn’t mean to stare.  Then she said, “We’ll talk later.  In the meantime, go outside!  The girls and I are about to sing my favorite song: Hero, by Enrique Iglesias.