Today is my 43rd birthday (gulp). I stayed overnight at my sister's house last night after attending book club in her town. This morning when I got home Scott had baked me this cake. I was so surprised....he is more of a "scrape your windshield off, carry in your heavy bags, build you a shelf" husband...than a cake baker. Maybe he's trying to make up for this. For some reason....I felt teary (which is embarrassing even to type).
Do you get more hormonal the older you are? Last week I teared up over an advertisment on tv. This is not good.Suddenly I find my birthday makes me melancholy....is that a sure sign I'm old?
When I was a kid I looked forward to my birthday for months. Mom would make a money cake (where she wrapped quarters, dimes and nickels in wax paper and baked them right in the cake batter). As you were eating your cake your fork would hit on one of these little wax paper bundles and you would get to unwrap and keep the money. OK, I am old.....can you imagine baking disgusting, germ-laden money into cake and feeding it to kids? Not to mention the choking hazard. Also on the birthday menu were boiled hotdogs with steamed white buns and tall, glass bottles of grape or orange soda (God bless the 1970's health oblivion).
Inevitably some kid would puke before the party was over. Mmmm...maybe adult birthdays are not so bad.