And it begins

It's Thursday night at 9:45pm. I'm sitting in bed with a bowl of melting vanilla ice cream and homemade peach cobbler. I wasn't hungry, but the cobbler was like an ex-lover calling my name seductively from the kitchen. So now I am indulging. And like the ex-lover, it feels oh-so-good now, but will surely only make me feel bad about myself in the morning. This pattern is probably not healthy...

Welcome to the story of ButterSugarFlourLuck. The story of two single gals trying to figuring out what comes first- the Boyfriend or the Bakery? My roommate Courtney and I have hatched a grand plan of starting a booth at our local farmers market, showcasing my baked sweets, her hearty breads and a good dose of local do-gooding for the sustainability community while secretly hoping to attract similarly do-gooding men who are intoxicated by our baking and entrepreneurial ingenuity.

Shall we back up to how it all began?

Day One:
Shannon (wine glass sloshing in circles punctuated by a long sigh after returning home from an anticlimactic coffee date): Dating freaking sucks! Why can't I find a man who thinks I am amazing that isn't weird. And who I find attractive and who actually has ambition. Who is not boring? And who makes me loose my breath and I become a bumbling idiot because I go completely out of my mind when I am near him, but he feels the same so he is a bumbling idiot too... and we'll both be breathlessly bumbling idiots together? Oi. Vey. (followed by a big glug of wine and a very long sigh.)
Courtney (wine glass half drained)- Where do we even begin to find men like that on this island? (pausing to drink...) You know what? We should start a bakery. We should channel our angsty "I'm single" energy into things we do well (baking), pay our bills doing something we both love (baking), get to hang out at Farmers Markets all the time, and feed our friends. Oh, and we should visit some Bee Farms. Maybe we'll find boyfriends there.
Shannon (wine nearly gone): Bee farms... I think you're onto something...

Fast forward one month...
Shannon spends hours (at work) researching A) Where are local commercial kitchens for rent? B) How to legally sell produce from my backyard, C) What does having a booth at the market actually entail?, and D) Where might there be a plethura of single, smart, nature-loving boys who have their shit together on this island? (the last one was done while flipping through the latest issue of the Honolulu Weekly. Written notes were not taken on that piece of research.)

Courtney spends hours A) Making lists of potential recipes and lists of farms to procure produce from, B) Studying for the MCATs (she's a freakin' smart girl), C) Studying for her Calculus final (see? smart.), D) Working a hookup to get 40 pounds of tomatoes from a farmer friend for canning, and E) Reading recipes of what the hell to do with 40 pounds of canned tomatoes.

...and we both spend way too much time baking, cooking, and pondering if the crush de jour is as twitterpated about us as we are them.

So begins the saga of ButterSugarFlourLuck. The tomato canning begins this weekend. The researching and list making will continue. The peach cobbler will be eaten and undoubtedly be replaced by something just as indulgent. The commercial kitchen manager needs to hurry up and call Shannon back. The plan has been put in motion and there is work to be done.