In my last post I promised stories of fame and fishermen.
I delivered on the fishermen, but not the fame.
As many of you know, every three weeks I drive up to Philadelphia for speech and vocal therapy, as well as for various appointments that typically involve needles in my neck, tubes down my nose and various instruments of the recording nature shoved down my throat to capture my bobo larynx in all of its glory.
In short, it’s a party. Olé.
Now despite the fact that I could recite every rest stop and construction zone between Washington DC and Philadelphia, and despite the fact that gas is not exactly cheap these days…these trips aren’t all that bad.
You see, I grew up in Philadelphia. It was my first home and my first city love. So despite my rapidly increasing BFF status with I‑95, I get to spend time with my parents and two of my best friends, at least once a month. Not too shabby.
It also helps that I have a new love.[Don’t worry, Mr. RestartingMyHardDrive is well aware. He even approves!]
The name is Sweet Freedom Bakery.
Or just Sweet Freedom, ya know, if you are real close.
And friends, let me just tell you. This love is real. I am smitten.
Everything (yes, everything) in the bakery is delicious…oh, and also kosher, vegan, and gluten, wheat, soy, dairy, corn, peanut, egg, casein, and refined sugar free.
Ladies and gentlemen, I can walk into this bakery and choose a treat from 95% of the options.
Just in case you are a newcomer to this blog (in which case, welcome!) it has been YEARS since I have been able to go anywhere and choose from 95% of the options. At a typical restaurant I am usually looking at 0–3% of the options being Lydia-friendly.
Frankly, I’m not even sure 95% of my own kitchen is Lydia-friendly? Hmm.
Sweet Freedom was started by a woman who graduated from the same school where I am currently a student (Institute for Integrative Nutrition) and is conveniently (dangerously??) only a few blocks from the hospital. After I finish my appointments for the day, I meet my friends at SFB and we enjoy a treat…or two…or ten?
(Ok fine, maybe not ten. My stomach is paralyzed after all.)
In short, I get to enjoy time with my friends, while eating a tasty treat and forgetting about whatever nonsense occurred at the hospital that day.
See why I’m in love?
During one of my trips a month or so ago, I noticed a stack of papers with a blank cupcake and a pile of markers. Now, let me be clear. It is basically a law of physics that I cannot sit next to a pile of markers and not use them. I mean, I’m fairly certain it would be a crime against humanity. Or something.
The papers were there for Sweet Freedom’s “Create Your Own Cupcake” contest. The idea was to design a new cupcake that they would feature at the bakery if you won. So of course I entered. Again, I really had no choice.
Obviously I went with s’mores. Come on people, I’ve been a camp girl since 1994.
After I finished my cupcake design (with much discussion and reflection from my cookie-eating partners in crime), my entry was added to the wall with the others. There was some serious competition — black raspberry chip…mint chocolate chip…black forest!? The wall was rich with delicious possibility. My friends and I went along our merry way and I resisted the urge to take out an ad in the Inquirer asking people to go vote for my cupcake before I headed back to Virginia.
Ok fine. I “strongly encouraged” my parents to go vote. But I mean, they’re my parents! They are contractually obligated to covet my magic marker creations…right??
|There it is! The real thing|
|It was a big day. I added a colorful scarf to my yoga pants
and T‑shirt uniform. Ya know, just in case the paparazzi