Two things on my Tuesday to-do...

One involves a swimsuit. The other, a pound of powdered sugar.

I'm not crazy. (That's debatable). I'm just itching for summer.

And I'll be darned if vitamin D and strawberry cake aren't the makings of all things June, July and August...

Fresh Strawberry Cake with Strawberry Cream Cheese Frosting

(recipe adapted from Saveur)

16 tbsp. unsalted butter, softened

3 cups flour

1 tbsp. baking powder

1/2 tsp. kosher salt

1 cup milk

1/2 cup seedless strawberry jam*

2 cups sugar

1 cup canola oil

1 tsp. vanilla extract

3 eggs

8 oz. cream cheese, softened

1 1-lb. box confectioners' sugar, sifted

1 tsp. vanilla extract

1/2 cup seedless strawberry jam

Heat oven to 350°. Grease and flour two 9″ round cake pans; set aside. Whisk together flour, baking powder, and salt in a medium bowl; set aside. Whisk together milk and jam in a small bowl; set aside. Beat together sugar, oil, vanilla, and eggs in a mixer on medium-high speed until pale and smooth, 2–3 minutes. In 3 additions, alternately add dry and wet ingredients to sugar mixture, beginning and ending with dry; mix until combined. Divide batter between prepared pans and smooth tops; bake until a toothpick inserted in the middle of cakes comes out clean, about 40 minutes. Let cool 15 minutes, unmold, then cool completely.

In a large bowl, beat butter and cream cheese on high speed of a mixer until smooth and fluffy, 1–2 minutes. Add confectioners' sugar, vanilla extract and strawberry jam; beat until smooth. Frost & refrigerate for 1 hour before serving. (If you're skilled in the art of patience).

*I made my own "jam" by tossing a cup full of hulled strawberries into pot with a few tbsp. of sugar and 1/3 cup water and letting it simmer on medium heat until thickened.

Now, if you'll excuse me... I've got some tan lines to procure.

How do you feel about s'mores?

Grahams and mallows and chocolate. Sticky and gooey and smooshed together in sugary bliss.

I, for one, am a fan. But for the sake of disclosure, I couldn't eat a s'more gracefully to save my life. Indulging in the campfire treat inevitably ends with - hey, uh, you got a little somethin' on the corner of your mouth... nope, other corner... a little to your left... oh now you've smudged it everywhere... and is that... yeah, you've got marshmallow in your hair.

Fellow messy s'mores eaters, this one's for you...

Grab a fork. Chunk the deuces to sticky fingers. (Can you chunk the deuces to your own fingers?) And feel free to quote Sandlot. Over and over.

First Prize S'mores Pie (recipe adapted from NYT Magazine)

1 1/2 cups graham cracker crumbs

8 tablespoons melted butter

7 ounces milk chocolate, broken into chunks

1 cup heavy cream

1 egg

Pinch of salt

Bag of marshmallows (any size, but I used minis)

For the crust - Pour melted butter into crumbs and mix until the butter is fully incorporated and the texture is that of wet sand. Butter or oil a 9-inch pie pan and firmly press the graham cracker crumbs against the sides, then against the bottom of the pan. Chill for 30 minutes to avoid crumbling when serving.

While the crust chills, preheat the oven to 350 degrees and prepare the chocolate filling. Put the chocolate in a large mixing bowl. Heat the cream in a saucepan until scalded — do not boil. Pour the cream over the chocolate and allow to stand for 1 minute. Whisk the cream and chocolate together until glossy and smooth. Add a pinch of salt, then crack the egg into the chocolate mixture and whisk to fully incorporate. Pour into chilled crust and bake for 25 minutes, or until the filling is set but still slightly wobbly in the center. Remove from the oven and cool completely.

Top pie with a layer of marshmallows. Pop it under the broiler for 2-ish minutes. (Keep a close eye on the oven or you'll end up with a layer of flaming mallows and a visit from the fire department. Which may or may not be a bad thing. Depending on how single you are).

I'm a vanilla girl. I take after my dad like that.

We don't frown upon chocolate. Not by any means. But ask us to pick between the two, and vanilla's the front-runner by a mile.

(I could spend hours baking a beautiful, mouth-watering, fancy pants dessert - but nothing makes Van's eyes light up like a simple plate full of buttery yellow cake, a slowly-melting slab of sweet cream butter perched atop).

So you understand, the vanilla girl that I am, being struck by an insatiable need for chocolate at 11 PM Monday night was... odd. Not only odd, but pesky. Riveted by Real Housewives of New Jersey - go ahead, judge freely - I couldn't be bothered to budge from my couch.

But that chocolate is a persistent bugger. And my mind kept drifting to the box of Triple Fudge Betty Crocker in the pantry. What chocolatey concoction could I whip up during commercial break? Something semi-guiltless. One that won't take refuge on my thighs at the very least...

(Cue the lightbulb ding in my brain).

Pretty sure the recipe is an old Weight Watchers trick, but I'll forever attribute it to the momma of one of my best high school friends (thank you, Mrs. Hollas!) who introduced me to...

(Low-cal) Chocolate Muffin Magic

1 (15 ounce) can pumpkin

18 ounces devil's food cake mix

1/4 cup water

Mix those three ingredients (yes, just three - nothing more) and bake as directed on the box. (One muffin is 180 calories, until you top it with a glob of Nutella like me. Oops).

Here's what's peachy...

Shaking the hand of the farmer (hi, Bob!) that grew the veggies I'm going to eat for dinner. Veggies that were picked with obvious pride. (He blushed under his silvery beard when I complimented his produce).

Cohabiting harmoniously amongst the good-for-you stuff? Cupcakes and spicy roasted nuts and fresh-baked bread and cheese, glorious cheese.

Samples like Costco too. (Why yes, hippie lady, I would like to taste your hemp seed coconut macaroons).

My haul - minus the nibbles of Rosemary Sea Salt Bread that seem to have disappeared into my mouth on the drive home...

I've never been a stickler for eating local. I pop into the mega-chain grocery store on the reg without guilt. But after meeting a few of the vendors and fawning over the freshness (and the colors), I might trek to Atherton Market more often.

Even if just to be entertained by the man running the Pickleville stand - a fellow Texas transplant/former commercial fisherman/current pickle-pickler - with tales of playing jazz in historic Austin venues and running for mayor of Port Aransas in the nineties.

"I only lost by ninety-eight votes. Ninety-eight. Can you believe that?"

(I'm kicking myself for not snapping a picture).

The hardest part about this homemade caramel sauce endeavor? Scraping the label off the pickle jar with a pairing knife without sacrificing half a finger. (Mom taught me the misuse of sharp kitchen tools can and will end in bloodshed. Pecan cookie bar incident circa 1999, y'all). Also, please note how fancy I am. Storing caramel sauce in an old pickle jar and all.

The second hardest part? Waiting for all that beautiful, bubbling sugar to cool. (Taste buds torched off my tongue upon spoon lick-age? Think I'll pass).

Buying caramel sauce at the store is a cinch. But making it yourself is a cinch too... and kind of rewarding. So be bold. And turn this....

Into this...

Salted Caramel Sauce

1 ½ C. sugar

¼ C. water

1 C. heavy cream

1 tsp sea salt

Stir sugar & water in a large saucepan over medium heat until the sugar dissolves. Increase the heat; boil without stirring until the mixture turns deep amber brown. This should take about 10-12 minutes. Take off the stove and hold over the sink before pouring the cream mixture into the sugar mixture. It will boil and bubble. Once calmed down, put back on the burner and reduce heat. Whisk occasionally. Remove from heat after 8-10 minutes. (This is the part where I threw in flecks of sea salt). Will thicken as it cools. (Recipe adapted from Authentic Suburban Gourmet).

(Citified).

"What do you mean you haven't seen Star Wars? Not even one of them?"

I shook my head, affirming the negative.

Before Kyle, I rolled my eyes at science fiction.

(Add that to my eschewal of country music and I was tip-toeing into deal breaker territory).

But I liked him. And I wanted to impress him. And, feigning buckets of enthusiasm, I agreed to watch Episodes I - VI. From "a long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away" to finish. Including director commentary.

(If that's not love...)

It didn't stop there, friends. The Hobbits were next. Then the Godfathers and the Indiana Joneses and the Batmans.

Under his cinematic tutelage, I blossomed into... well... a card-carrying trilogy nerd. One who buys her boyfriend Darth Vader t-shirts. And who once begged him to see Tron in 3D. (I know).

The point of all that? Today is May the 4th. May the 4th Be With You. And for dessert, we're all getting Wookies.

Yep, Wookies... (warm cookies). Get the recipe here.

And about that Darth Vader t-shirt...

I bought a bundt pan for less than five dollars yesterday.

I was going to celebrate that thriftiness with a bundt cake.

But America went full-on badass on me last night.

So now, I'm celebrating the U-S-of-A with a bundt cake...

But only because it was logistically impossible to pop bottles at the White House whilst fist-pumping to Toby Keith, rocking camo pants & an American flag doo-rag.

Sour Cream & Citrus Bundt Cake. It's not red, white and blue. But it's a pretty sweet sidekick to liberty and justice for all. Get the recipe here.

And to those that serve our country, thank you.