For Lent this year, I gave up sweets. I know that seems rather childish, but since my third trimester, I've developed a vicious sweet tooth. This has not been an easy 40 days.
So you see why I've been fantasizing about the Perfect Cake. My family and friends are seated around our dining room table, having just finished enjoying our first big family holiday meal to be celebrated in our new house. Everyone did save a little room for dessert, though, and out I walk with the Perfect Cake. It's a white cake, light and fluffy like the clouds angels sleep on. It has a raspberry jam filling and is covered with a smooth, pristine layer of vanilla icing. It's a cake to celebrate the end of dark times, the miracle of resurrection. It's a cake of grace and hope.
I am no celebrity chef by any means, but a cake, I've made cakes before. Why did it have to go so horribly wrong?
My husband is out getting more icing to try to make it look somewhat appetizing. Another can of icing and a bag of pastel M&M will salvage it, right?
At least my yarn came today.