Little bitty lessons: Bite-sized blog posts

There are two kinds of blogs that I really value: Long blogs and short blogs. I've always been drawn to the long, languid blogs -- the ones that are deep and thoughtful musings about large issues, with multiple links and anecodotes. These are the kinds of blogs I like to read on a Sunday afternoon, and to talk about with my friends. When I started blogging, this is the kind of blog series I wanted to write.

But there is also another great blogging strategy -- short and sweet. I like those kinds of blogs too. Like Seth Godin's blog, which is usually no more than two or three paragraphs of insight (but is occasionally indulgent).

So I've decided to have my cake (gluten-free, of course) and eat it too. Once a week, I'll post a longer piece -- the kind you've come to expect from me; those pieces will always have titles that start with "Learning to ..." On a more frequent basis, I'll post bite-sized blog posts, and will call those "Little bitty lessons."

Today's little bitty lesson?

Cake is not just dessert. It's family, and hospitality, and love.

Yesterday, my husband baked a two-layer yellow cake with fudge frosting. It made me feel loved. And for those of us who don't eat gluten, this is a special treat thanks to companies like Betty Crocker. But beyond the sugar rush I enjoyed, I realized that cake has a special power. The beauty of it, on display under a classic glass dome, perched on top of our kitchen island, inspires many things. It made me want to be a better neighbor, and to clean the rest of the kitchen to rise to the occasion. And it made me breathe more deeply today, in hopes to catch another waft of that heavenly, buttery smell in the air.

I had two friends visit today, and I offered them both cake. They happily obliged my hospitality. My second visitor stopped by unexpectedly, so I felt particularly pleased with myself for being ready to welcome her with home-baked goodness.

This past December, my grandmother passed away. She always had a cookie jar (appropriately shaped like a big smiley face), brimming with treats for her visitors. And while I don't know if I'll ever be someone's grandmother, I hope to bring that same kind of simple joy to others.

Grandma had a cookie jar and I have a cake dome. And those simple gestures could quite possibly make the world a better place.