Not a whole lot to tell about this one. The person I made the cake for worked for Nestle. I don’t have any other notes with this cake, but I was rather pleased with how it looked.
I started to write "I don’t even remember what flavor the cake was" – and then I thought – this is eleven years ago! Why should I remember?? I set odd standards for myself. Fortunately I have come to accept my mommyhood-and-sleep-deprivation-induced-senility and I no longer get upset when I can’t remember some trivial thing from over a decade ago. I shrug now, and say "oh well" and go on with what I was doing. While distressing at first, I’ve found it to be rather liberating. If I don’t remember something, doesn’t that free up other space in my head? And also, if I can’t remember something, I also can’t remember if it was something upsetting, like a rude person from another country openly criticizing an Easter dessert I’d spent a great deal of imagination, time and effort on and she was a guest in my family’s home and she just blurted out her rude observation with no regard for how it might come across or how I would feel or what manners were or how to behave politely when you are a guest, and interestingly enough it was like everyone else disappeared and tumbleweeds blew by while the townspeople hid in the saloon and I hissed something sharp and sarcastic and bitter in reply and then let the matter drop because for one thing the sarcasm thing just went right over her head, and because there were other guests – nice ones – and I didn’t want to cause a scene, although the general consensus later was that it would have been understood if I had.
I’m sorry, what? What were we talking about? I don’t remember.
Anyway, that’s the cake this week.