So, it was my birthday a couple of weeks ago. It was the first day of a three day show which was really the second day as we set up our booth all the day the first day. SO I come in from a day of schlepping my dolls, working the booth, doing my routine with the costumers. All very energizing until you sit down in the car to drive home and realize you still feel like you're skating only exhausted and dizzy...
And, I had and hour to get home, eat, dress in layers and make it to the high school football game in the cold.
It was, as you remember, my birthday. My husband had remembered too...
My husband and I are spoiled brats whose cups runneth over. And by spoiled I mean we keep our heads down and work real hard, clean all the time and buy ourselves what we want after careful pricing research. But, we have more than we need and most of what we want. We decided many years ago not to give each other gifts. Our dog, Spencer will give his parents something useful at Christmas. Spencer typically gives a crock pot or shirts for example. All very practical. We will do something for our anniversary, like, well I can't think of anything but it does seem like I have a few Brighton purses.
In an aside, my husband gave me my first Brighton purse for no reason whatsoever, writing on the card "hope to brighton your day." We were dating then. That should explain a lot.
When I was a little girl and birthdays were anticipated greatly. We would go to The Cinderella Bake Shop and order my cake. They were classic sheet cakes, vanilla cake with white royal cream icing. Soft pink roses. The rose icing always tastes different than the cake icing. So good. All good. The roses were abundant and frothy. A spray across the coveted corner. The leaves were green and curled just so about the blossom. It really is the same confection I try to recreate with my knitted blooms...
My cakes always had the little ballerina on pointe stuck in the icing as well. I secretly want to be know as Queen Frostine. Well, not so secretly. I love cake. I love frosting and it is the only reason to go to a wedding as far as I am concerned. I do not trust people that scrap the icing off and leave it on their plate to be thrown away by someone else, because icing scrappers do not ever scrap that crap off their own plate and wash it. Someone who loves icing has to do it. Therefore, I do not trust them.
The only thing I want for my birthday, have ever wanted and will ever want is a cake, a quarter sheet cake with royal buttercream icing, roses and in soft colors. No spray paint, no images, no plastic balloons, no sprinkles, confetti or glitter, not real ribbon. And no whipped cream masquerading as icing. The cake I want costs $14 dollars and comes from a national chain grocery because they understand lard. You don't even have to call ahead. Just go by and get someone to squirt "Robin" on the darn thing.
My husband. He tried so hard a few years ago. He ended up bring home 3 cakes before he got it right. Since I only want a $14 cake, I am a complete bitch about it. It is all I want so I have the right to stomp my feet and act 5, right? I know, right?
This year I walk in, wired and tired, and there, on the island of the kitchen is the biggest box I have ever seen. It is a cake box. It is a sheet cake. A full sheet.
"Oh my God, we are having a huge party." This is not what I want, we will not even get home until after 10. I am too tired to be nice about it, because ordinarily I am so nice.
Wow, that's a full sheet. How many are coming?
Just us. Three.
It's a full sheet.
Well, the lady asked me what I wanted. I told her a sheet cake. She offered sizes like a half sheet or a full sheet. I told her I don't want half a cake.
Not for my wife.
Oh that makes perfect sense.
The whole cake had been sprayed orange. So it was a large volume of orange. Imagine the Ghost Busters, in uniforms with spray wands and tanks.
Well, I told her a little bit of orange.
Right, because everyone knows how much I love orange. Also purple.
The flowers were completely purple. There was an icing ribbon in the same purple. And some kind of gold acetate fleck sprinkled, uhm, dumped in places across the surface, at least what could be reached.
The must have thought it was for Mardi Gras theme party. For 100 revelers.
The three of us cut into it. We ate a piece. It tasted like it was supposed to.
Then we all smiled, with big orange grins, like Jack O' Lanterns...