I had icing in my hair, on the floor, on the chair and on the door.
It was on my cat, a bit on the cookies, in my hat...what can I say I was behaving like a total rookie.
My fingers were stained orange and then black.
I'm still wondering when oh when I'll get my cuticles back.
To my rescue came my brother and his wife.
They came bearing chilled cocktails and willing each to brandish a knife.
Together we outlined, flooded, and decorated turning boring circles into basketballs to be celebrated.
When my mixer conked out whipping butter cream, it is time for another cocktail I was only too happy to scream.
It's not meant to be, oh no it is not...this cake business is no walk...me and that dough boy...we've got to talk.
What else was this baker to think?
So I poured another drink, abandoned the dirty dishes in the sink, and slowly made my way back from the brink.
Tomorrow's another day...isn't that what they say?
Not to worry. The next morning I was up with the sun.
Up bright and early to get the job done.
My hubby the fixer was able to work his magic on my mixer.
A cup of strong coffee the morning's elixir.
No cake went unfrosted or cookie forsaken...
all the treats were packaged up ready by the friends to be taken.
Seriously, I never want to see them again!
I promise not to ever grumble or groan...
or make jokes about needing a six figure loan when the girl at the bakery tells me the price.
I'll pay that three dollar per cookie fee with glee,
If only someone else will make them for me!
The boys had a blast playing hoops and dodging balls...
There were sweaty smiles on them...one and all.
Pizza pies disappeared quickly before my very eyes.
To my ears, two hours have never lasted so #@*! long.
Let me tell you...the noise that assailed them did not come from sweet song.
But at the end of the party I was glad they had such fun...
And even more over the moon that I only have one!
It was back to the kitchen after the hooping and hollerin' for we had another cake to bake as the very next day more guests would come calling.
If my Step-Mom has a say, a nutty German Chocolate number is her choice flavor of the day.
Never mind that I only knew the name...
I found myself a recipe and stepped up my game.
It didn't go as planned and sadly it appeared as if my recipe would be panned.
Then I baked another layer and said an urgent prayer.
Please God be good and let this cake turn out the way it should!
Not a single guest knew that my three layer cake was supposed to be four!
I call that divine intervention and the power of noble intention.
We ate and talked and sang as we rang in a new decade for someone dear to our hearts.
I'm hanging up my apron this week...
And I call that smarts!
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