Cakes and Stuff
After my Weight Watchers meeting yesterday, the kid and I made a birthday cake for her dad. His birthday is tomorrow. If you are a Weight Watchers member, you may know this already but if not, let me break this news to you gently . . . cake . . . is . . . 12 . . . points. I know, it's tragic. Wait, the news gets worse. This calculation is for a THREE-INCH SQUARE PIECE OF CAKE. Trust me, I wept the day I found out.
Anywho, A and I donned our respective aprons and got to work. My main job was to keep her from licking beaters, knives, etc. until after the cake was made. At one point I caught her licking a dollop of batter directly off the counter. You know, the counter that I clean periodically with 409?
Here it is, the piece de resistance:
Don't bother submitting it to Cake Wrecks - they only accept cake-y disasters made by professionals. And clearly we are not that. It is downright edible, though. I took the 12 points like a man and will avert my gaze from the kitchen counter until the leftover chocolately goodness is all gone.
In other news, it looks like I may have to contact an attorney and file for the big D tomorrow (yes, on his birthday). Yesterday afternoon, we were in the car on the way to pick up our daughter from a playdate. I hooked up my iPod and put it in shuffle mode for the drive across town. "Everyday I Write the Book" came on.
"Oh, I hate Elvis Costello." My husband curled his lip in disgust.
"What are you talking about? Who hates Elvis Costello?"
"He's terrible. He doesn't have a single good song."
Needless to say, I turned up the volume. And sang along.
"I'M GIVING YOU A LONGING LOOK EVERYDAY EVERYDAY EVERYDAY I WRITE THE BOOK!"
You'd think that after 16 1/2 years together, I would have known of his disdain for Elvis Costello. And yet, I think you'll agree that this ranks right up there with "irreconcilable differences." I was willing to tolerate his dislike of fruit and I'm totally on-board with his negative feelings about Bob Seger, but Elvis Costello? That's over the line, man.
Anywho, A and I donned our respective aprons and got to work. My main job was to keep her from licking beaters, knives, etc. until after the cake was made. At one point I caught her licking a dollop of batter directly off the counter. You know, the counter that I clean periodically with 409?
Here it is, the piece de resistance:
Don't bother submitting it to Cake Wrecks - they only accept cake-y disasters made by professionals. And clearly we are not that. It is downright edible, though. I took the 12 points like a man and will avert my gaze from the kitchen counter until the leftover chocolately goodness is all gone.
In other news, it looks like I may have to contact an attorney and file for the big D tomorrow (yes, on his birthday). Yesterday afternoon, we were in the car on the way to pick up our daughter from a playdate. I hooked up my iPod and put it in shuffle mode for the drive across town. "Everyday I Write the Book" came on.
"Oh, I hate Elvis Costello." My husband curled his lip in disgust.
"What are you talking about? Who hates Elvis Costello?"
"He's terrible. He doesn't have a single good song."
Needless to say, I turned up the volume. And sang along.
"I'M GIVING YOU A LONGING LOOK EVERYDAY EVERYDAY EVERYDAY I WRITE THE BOOK!"
You'd think that after 16 1/2 years together, I would have known of his disdain for Elvis Costello. And yet, I think you'll agree that this ranks right up there with "irreconcilable differences." I was willing to tolerate his dislike of fruit and I'm totally on-board with his negative feelings about Bob Seger, but Elvis Costello? That's over the line, man.
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(PS...whipping the frosting into oblivion cuts the frosting points in half...yay!)