penis or butterfly?

So what will it be? A penis cake or a butterfly cake?

Eitan walked in with a big smile on his face and this cake in hand. When he smiles, you could see all his teeth. And when he walks into the room, it is a soft enterance of sorts. And Marina, being the good hostess said "HI! welcome! oh what a nice cake! thank you!" And all I could do is, shift my head to the left in a questionable way and ponder "penis?" I couldnt even mutter a hello to Eitan. I couldnt understand why he brought us a cake with a penis on it.

Last night was the big party indeed. We never had so many people at our place. We had more than 20 people. And they were talking and smiling and it was great. I overheard the guys looking at the beers and the good food. What could be better?

Friday night was when we started prepping for it all. We went shopping for three hours. It was streneous. But exciting for we went to Russo’s, which is this Italian place with the most coolest vegetables you have ever seen and plethora of cheese and other little things that you could just admire forever. I bought a pot of purple flowers. They make me smile with their bold yellow centers.

We ate dinner at 10pm, thanks to Liz who stayed and cooked. But I hadnt eaten since noon, so my stomach had shrunk.

Eventually, I called my mom for the Napolean cake recipe.

Let me explain what Napolean is.

It is this big cake. Layered with cream. The bestest cream you have ever had on your tongue. Sweet and smooth. And it takes a lot of effort to make it. When I initially asked my mom for the recipe, she hung up the phone on me, declaring that I am insane and that I will not manage it. After plenty of begging, she agreed to supply me with the secret ingredients. Because you see, this cake is legendary. It has been in my family for centuries. My grandmother used to make it. And my mom makes it once a year for a big event. I decided to partake in the lengendary.

I started making the dough at midnight. The thing was, I didnt have a rolling pin, so after some laughter from my mom, she told me to just use a bottle. I found a nice long wine bottle. And I rolled. I stood on my tiptoes and put my entire body on this dough. Marina was on the other side of me, making marinade for the lamb kabobs. Music blared on the radio. We shook our tuchases. We didnt sing, because Marina is horrible horrible horrible at singing. Im not. But she is. And its not fair for me to sing and not her. So i made it a rule for her to not even hum.

It was good times. I was tired but going strong. There is something to be said about baking at odd hours of the night. And I was trying to imagine my grandmother rolling this same dough 30 years ago. And it made me smile.

At some point, Liz woke up. Her expression was priceless when she walked into the kitchen and found the two russians doing what they do best. Making food for an army. The expression slightly resembled a "wtf?"

I think it was around 2am, when I decided that while making and rolling the dough for the Napolean, I should make some Apple Crumbles as well. Needless to say, I managed it all. The Apple Crumbles was done at 4am, the Napolean dough was happily sitting in the fridge and I blissfully went to sleep with flour in my hair.

Saturday. We should have maybe started doing everything in the morning. But we were tired. And before we knew it, time was running so fast that it was 5pm and the guests were coming at 6:30pm and things still needed cleaning and there was no appetizers done and oh my god what are we going to wear and who showers and I became the leader and handed out jobs to liz and marina.

Melinda was the first to show up. She was a little bug eyed from our franticness. When Sarit showed up, I gave them the job of making bruschetta mozzerella. Yum? YES.

I dont think 6-6:30 really existed because all of a sudden people showed up and i was AHHH

Zack, the guy that Liz knew for a total of 3 mins, showed up with flowers, burnt chicken and cornbread. He was a redhead and single. And apparently Marina or I were supposed to marry him. Thats how it usually works with Liz. She tries to marry us off. Secretly, I think she is a jewish grandmother matchmaker.

Zack turned out to be dorky with a sketchiness brooding about him. We decided Liz cant invite people that she doesnt know.

People piled in with their foodings. Since it was potluck and all. I was in the kitchen. Before I realized it, Liz was off getting ice and Marina was fetching people outside who couldnt find our apartment and I was in my lovely apron, trying to not burn the chicken on the skillet, making sure the couscous doesnt turn to mush, watching the lamb shish kabobs in the oven and creating the mystery hot drink. I stepped out to see everyone sitted on the couches and chairs and awkwadly looking at me and at the naked girls calander we had on the wall. Lets just say it was a funny moment with me, as the host to 10+ people and trying to handle the kitchen and trying to explain why we have naked girls on our wall.

melinda took a photo of my frantic state.

I kind of missed out on the whole getting to know people part. But thats okay. Eventually, when the food was done, I took off the apron and hopped around conversing with people.

Somehow we managed to have 20+ in our apartment. An amazing feat. The funny thing was that there were only like 4 guys. Yup. My mom’s reaction when she heard this was "what?! only 4?! were they at least Russian? And why didnt you invite the guy from your russian class who was born in kishenev?" My mom is funny. Sometimes. Or a lot.

And it was really nice to be socializing. It was nice to have people at our apartment. I had been looking at photos from sophomore year and well, there are so many diverse faces and smiles. A good variety of people visited us. But somehow when senior year arrived, we became hermits. We get tired and lazy. Instead of going out, we stay in watching a movie. And its nice. Marina Liz and I are a family and we love each other and its nice to be in comfort of just us.

But. DUDE. Parties are fun. And we finally threw one.

And it was a success. I can proudly say it. The kabobs were eaten so quickly and mmmed. My huge pot of couscous was barely left. The mystery drink of hot apple cider, cranberry and orange zest, with rum and cinnamon was a hit.

I talked with Sarah and we hadnt talked all of last semester. Mainly because she sucks and I do too. But we reconnected. We both have stupid moments and we laughed at our stories.

i told her about how I caught on fire, trying to make the cream for the napolean. I had been stirring it on medium heat so that when the first bubble arose, i needed to take it off. And somehow in my klutziness, i got the boiling cream on me. I saw OW. And atthat same moment, i jerked and tried to find my wound. All of a sudden i smelled something burning, as i looked around, i realized that the towel i was holding in my other hand was on fire and looking closely that the towel got my shirt on fire. "Oh shit, Im on fire" i said ever so calmly that marina heard me and calmly responded "oh youre on fire eh?" I tried to get the fire out, except I couldnt make the towel stop flaring up. At the same time, my cream started boiling with big bubbles. Burning towel or boiling napolean cream, whats more important? CREAM. Thankfully at this point, Marina came and took the burning towel off the floor and put it in the water.

She told me that the next time Im on fire, I better scream to get some better attention than calmly stating it.

I put my heart and soul into this Napolean cake.

Kaitlyn was hilarious, especially with alcohol in her. Ari was tall and loud but ever so funny. Hes the kind of guy i go for. The outgoing, clever kind. The one with the dozens of girls around him. But Ari was there with his girlfriend, who frankly, I thought was a bitch and a bit on the snooty side. Edward was well, Edward with his thin smile and sweet talk. I realized Edward is that guy I just dont click with. We stumble awkwardly in conversations. We are bumping collisions fated to crash. Allison hid in corners, which made me sad. Jana looked lonely so I joined her on the couch and told her stories and soon she was smiling wide. Liz stole me away into another room to gossip and we giggled. When Jane showed up, I realized how much cool she really is.
It was good times. I promise.

When I finally brought out the Napolean, all eyes were on me. I smiled. With pride. And soon they were fighting for a piece of it and I cut happily. I frantically looked around, trying to see if the pieces were consumed. And indeed. All plates eventually were wiped clean. And. I felt. Good.

The main ingredient into Napolean, was my happiness indeed.
People departed maybe a bit earlier than we wanted, but it was okay cause we were tired. Eventually it was just us. My girls. My loves. My darlings. The girls whom I share everything with. The girls I lived with sophomore year. And oddly enough Zack was there. And he took a photo of us, right before we took a shot of vodka. The Russian way of drinking of vodka, is eating pickles right afterwards. Hence. This funny photo:

Yes the funny thing is how I am blowing the pickle and Aliza is sucking the pickle.
Im good at blowing and Aliza is good at sucking?

And we somehow cleaned and retired to our beds. Melinda and Aliza stayed the night. They slept in my room. My entire floor was just matresses. It was awesome. I gave them my new book. The Shel Silverstein book of poems and we read to each other with great voices in the dim light of the night. And it was wonderful.

This Sunday morning we woke up too late and had dessert for breakfast and with tea of course. We talked and argued about life and books and we laughed.

Its been a good weekend indeed.

And of course the Napolean and the Queen: