Wanna Cupcake?

Spookily cute Halloween cupcakes.

The unbridled joy--and practicality--of using a cupcake tote.

Festive, no?

Cupcakes and ribbon are two of my greatest earthly joys. The possibilities for both are endless. ENDLESS! So last Friday, after a loooong week, Chris picked me up from work. As I jumped into the car, I very maturely squealed, “It’s FRIDAY! We should celebrate!” Chris, ever the calm and collected one, responded, “And how might we do that?” In spite of knowing perfectly well that Chris’s idea of Friday-night perfection merely entailed a bottle of wine and the Food Network, I nonetheless shouted, “Let’s go to Crate and Barrel and buy a cupcake tote!” I threw it out there as a joke, but Chris—who is either excessively literal or deeply sweet natured (or both)—simply replied with, “Alrighty.” And he drove straight to Crate and Barrel—with a Chris Hofmann smirk on his face. I have wanted a cupcake tote for ages. AGES. But there wasn’t enough room in the condo, and for reasons that are beyond my comprehension, we can now actually fit one in the new apartment. And so I bought my cupcake tote. And it is a kitchen tool every bit as glorious as I had hoped it would be. So last night I made pumpkin cupcakes with cream cheese frosting for Chris’s analysts. My boss once slyly asked me, “So you’re the type of wife who bakes for her husband’s coworkers?” (I detected a slightly accusatory tone, seeing as how I often neglect to bring any cupcakes into MY office. But 1/3 of my coworkers telecommute on Thursdays, 1/3 are on a diet, and the last 1/3 were laid off in the last year. Besides, nobody appreciates home-baked goodies like 20-something bachelors. Or bachelorettes, for that matter. Well, maybe it’s just GEICO in general.) So, yes. I’m the type of wife who bakes for her husband’s coworkers. And who decorates the cupcake tote—inside and out—with Halloween-inspired ribbon. “Are you going to be embarrassed to walk into the office with a decorated cupcake tote?” I asked Chris as I put the finishing touches on the ribbon. “Nah,” he replied. “Nobody will think I’m the weirdo who decorated it.” “Perhaps if you skipped merrily while swinging it to and fro?” I suggested. The look he shot me gave me my answer. Although he is many things, Mr. Hofmann is not a skipper. But this morning, with his workbag in one hand and his festive cupcake tote in the other, my dear husband went trotting off to work.