wedding cake

do you ever assume that because your mother can do something well, somehow you can too?
I do,
I did,
I don't know that I ever will again.

everyone knows mom makes beautiful cakes. heck all the food mom makes is beautiful. i was asked to make a wedding cake for a girl i am supposed to visit teach but do not. we are friends with her family. it actually did not go as bad as i anticipated, luckily i had mom on strict orders to answer her phone immediately all weekend if i was calling and she did, thank you mum. you were wonderful cake life support!
although I think I made her nervous when I asked “what temperature do you cook the cake at?”
mum said, “Beth are you kidding me?”
I replied “MOM, don’t you teach special ed?”
“yes but I didn’t know this was sped cooking.”
I told her to pretend it was.

at first the requests from the bride were as simple as the little town we live in,
"i don really care as long as it doesn taste bad and looks ok"
(re-read that with a southern accent),
yeah now you got it.
then…a week before the blessed day she says that she has tasted a cake that she loves and wants for her wedding cake and could she come over and have me taste it and figure out what it is. I suggested she call the baker of the cake and just ask her what it was and then tell me.
so in the end we had a three-tiered coconut cake with coconut “icing” that I thought tasted very good. even tyler liked it and that is a very good sign because his usual opinion of food is “fine”! I know, how could I have married a man who doesn’t say things like “its to die for” in reference to food?
in the end, I was glad to do it to see if I truly could, (I figured if it had been a huge disaster I would only have had to live with the embarrassment for a few more weeks because we are moving soon)
but I realized something in the process; no one is born with cake decorating genes. too bad. I wish I had been born with that one and maybe a sewing gene too. the old adage is true: practice makes perfect. I just don’t think I need to be perfect at this one. we’ll see

Our nice neighbors went on a church bus tour to our Nation's Capitol a few weeks ago. I have become friendly with most of our neighbors and as such Ms. Carolyn from across the street asked if William and I would come over while she and her husband were away and give her three dogs, Ring, Honeybun and Sissy, treats. Another neighbor had the responsibility of feeding Ring, Honeybun and Sissy but Ms. Carolyn wanted us just to play with them, supply them with ample treats and change the water in the birdbath.

I of course said it would be not trouble at all, even though I don’t really care that much for dogs, especially hers, and we went over to her house to see where the treats were kept. While there Ring, who is so fat from too many treats he can barely walk, would not stop barking. He really wanted to play with William and William just wanted me to hold him, being very intimidated by Ring on account of his enormous girth. Ms. Carolyn has been bestowed with the gift of gab and was talking away to me shooing and shushing Ring as we walked around her yard and patio. Finally at the end of her southern wits she turned around and very loudly yelled,
“Ah, SHUT UP Ring!!” And then turned around to us as though she had forgotten we were there and giggled a little embarrassed at loosing her patience. William, who is holding on to my neck for dear life, afraid no doubt that at any moment he will fall from my arms and Ring will devour him whole, then proceeds to whisper in my ear,
“Can I sha she she at?” he asks
“What William?” I ask.
He whispers again inaudibly.
“Honey I can’t hear you. You don’t have to whisper. What do you want to do?”
Now his lips are in my ear, “Can I say Shut Up to that dog?”
“No”
“Why?”
Good question, Ms. Carolyn just said it. “Because, well Ms. Carolyn we must be going.” I excused us from the yard and back to our own where we could still hear Ring’s longing bark wanting so badly just to play with William who really just wanted to say “Shut up Dog”. I guess William is a little bit like his mother after all, not much of a dog lover.

Flying PJ's

Today I was in the bathroom

Me: William will you please get out and give mum some privacy

William: I want to watch you poop

Me: (sigh), William I am taking a shower. Get out please and give me some privacy

William: OKAAAAAAY! (he says as he walks out the door) but I don't know where the privacy is.

These pajamas used to be Kellers'. The first time I put William in these red long johns with complimentary butt flap, he wanted his blue pj's with the superman logo on front, which is what he wants to wear every night to bed. So I told him that these were Superman's pajamas, this is what superman wears to bed. Now months later he hasn't forgotten. He thinks he can fly when he wears these.
(He put my shoes on to "stretch" which means exercise in William language)