Cupcakes and Gambling by The Pioneer Woman

We are getting ready to start offering cupcakes in the bakery at the Merc. This means (bad news) that I have to taste taste taste cupcakes constantly until they’re perfect. This also means (good news) that I have to taste taste taste cupcakes constantly until they’re perfect.

 
 
This one was delicious.

 
 
This one was delicious.

 
 
This one was delicious.

Are we seeing a pattern here?

 
 
This one rocked my world! But any dessert with coffee does.

 
 
I don’t mean to complain…and that’s why I’m not complaining! Ha. This will be a delicious journey.

 
 
I forgot to tell you that Paige and I came to Vegas over the weekend!

 
 
She had a volleyball tournament all weekend, and it was fun because we basically got to fly over the Grand Canyon.

We felt very small. In a really good way.

 
 
Or maybe we flew over the moon? It kind of freaked me out a little.

 
 
Their last game is today, then we go straight to the airport to go home. As much traveling as I’ve done over the past few years, I never linger. The second we’re done, we go HOME!

We’ve had a great time together, though. We (well, I…at Paige’s urging, since she’s not old enough to gamble in Vegas) put $20 in a slot machine, and with $2 left, Paige told me to push the “Max Bet” button (which bets the farm—the whole $2) and lo and behold, I won $200 on the spot. I insisted on cashing out rather than continuing to gamble, because I don’t really like gambling since I totally see through the racket, and understand the value of walking away, which of course I explained to Paige. Then Paige couldn’t understand why she wasn’t entitled to half of my winnings since she had urged me to gamble to begin with. (I’m cracking up.) So as we walked out of the casino, I explained to her what it means to be an investor, that I had taken all the risk, and that she had taken none. (DOESN’T SHE EVER WATCH SHARK TANK?!?) And then I looked up and realized the path we were taking out of the casino had actually wound around and led us back into the casino—and this sparked another conversation about how the casino doesn’t actually want us to leave. The casino never wants us to leave. The casino would like us to live here. It’s like the hurricane in The Perfect Storm: “She’s not gonna let us out.”

Anyway, who knew 15 minutes in a casino could offer so many opportunities for me to lecture my 18-year-old daughter?

I think we’ll come to Vegas more often. Perfect wholesome mother-daughter trip! Ha.