A couple months ago I got tagged in one of those Facebook notes where you're supposed to write 25 random things about yourself. I actually managed to dig deep enough to create the list, and threw it out onto FB for all the world to read. However, there are two seemingly innocent revelations that have come back to haunt me:
Doesn't look a stinkin' thing like what I was asked to make, does it? I honestly wasn't trying to be difficult. The only gel colors I had that were still usable were that lovely (Tarheel) blue and a rusty orange color from when I did a Tigger cake. And when the color was so clearly Tarheel blue, well, I just went with it.
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In spite of the fact that I had produced a birthday cake that did not even vaguely resemble what their daughter had requested, these friends wanted to show their appreciation for the cake. They brought over some illegal South Carolina fireworks the following weekend. We went into an empty cul-de-sac across the street from our house and launched fireworks for a solid half hour. It was beautiful.
The friends left and I started getting the kids ready for bed while Pat was taking out the garbage. I saw the sheriff's car as it drove up the street, but didn't think too much of it. It was just a couple fireworks, right? Surely they wouldn't come out for
that noisy bag of TNT we blew up a couple little firecrackers, right? I guess the sheriff had a different perspective.
My dear husband is a staunch follower of rules and always colors inside the lines. I'm not completely sure what happened next... The sheriff came... Pat ran... The ginormous box that the fireworks had been packaged in was shoved under a car... Pat may or may not have dived under that same car as well. I'm not clear on that part. However, I am absolutely certain that he was grumpy when he came inside and I made the mistake of asking why he'd taken so long to put out the trash.
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My daughter's birthday was two weeks ago, and we finally got around to having her party this weekend. The party was planned. Details were checked. And then out of nowhere, three days before the party, "Mom, what kind of cake are you making for my birthday?" Crap. I thought we were all about ice cream cake from Coldstone Creamery these days, but apparently seeing me
losing my mind making someone else's cake reminded my child of how much she enjoys pushing my buttons my wonderful cakes.
She wanted a Hannah Montana cake, and she wanted her Hannah Montana doll to be on it. Hmmm. I decided I'd make the cake into a stage and put the doll in the middle of it. How hard could it be?
Note to self: Whenever you say how hard could it be or what could go wrong... expect that nothing good will happen.
Stupid cake. I didn't even finish decorating it. The back of the stage immediately started falling forward. Apparently there's a trick to stacking multiple layers of cake into a physical structure. Want to know the trick? Good. Go google it and then come back and tell me because I clearly haven't got a clue. By the the time we sang Happy Birthday the only thing keeping the back of the stage from completely falling over was the fact that Hannah Montana's head was smashed into it. How do you submit an entry to cake wrecks anyway?
Abby and Emily's birthday is coming up in April. They're unfazed by the Hannah debaucle and are already plotting the cake sculpture that they want me to create.
For everyone else, I'm amending the FB note and it now reads:
19) I love to bake. I used to be able to do amazing things with cakes and buttercream and/or fondant. I retired in humiliation after Hannah Montana was nearly swallowed alive by one of my creations. I'm
sad relieved that my kids have had mommy cakes for so long that they ask for a Costco cake to be different.
The other part of the note... about blowing things up?
I'm keepin' it.
And to the Queen Bhe -- I know you read this and I loved making your daughter's cake! It really was fun. I just didn't realize I'd have to make so many other cakes, too : )