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It was all because of the insurance

Sassy turned ten this last week. On her actual birthday I received a series of texts from My Honey that implied she wanted me to cook her dinner. Me. ME. I could not for the life of me understand why she’d want that. It never really works out. Unless, I’ve known dinner was my responsibility well ahead of time and ALL of the ingredients are waiting for me at home, dinner is a fiasco.

Lucky, she requested Olive Garden. While that’s not my favorite restaurant by any stretch, it is a far sight better than anything I’m going to burn.

On Sunday, we had the family dinner. I was in charge of her birthday cake.

Oh sweet heaven. A store bought cake was out of the question. It’s never acceptable. I have been informed that it is a mother’s job.  Sassy asked for a pineapple upside-down cake.

Wow. Yeah. I’ve never made one of those before. I’ll admit I was a bit intimidated.

I sent My Honey to the store during her slumber party to get the ingredients as listed by my mom. He bought two of everything which was probably very forward thinking.

Sunday morning I made attempt #1.

I did everything exactly – EXACTLY – like my mom told me to. I slid the pan into the oven, set the timer on my phone, and tottered off to lay on my bed and watch TV.

While the cake is cooking, let me tell you a little history of my birthday cake career. When I was first married, My Honey’s grandmother asked me to bring a birthday cake to a family dinner. It was with complete terror I agreed. My husband’s family are excellent cooks. His mother, sister, grandmother – even his niece – can all really, really cook. His sister routinely reproduces dishes from restaurants. They are all the kinds of people who read Cuisine Magazine or Gourmet and are able to make whatever they see in there.

They look at the pictures and think, “I can make that” and they do. I look at the pictures and say, “I wonder where I can buy that?”

By the time I arrived at his grandmother’s house with that first cake, the top layer had slid completely off. It looked like a train wreck. I do recall I cried.

Every cake looks like complete hell. I can’t spread frosting. I can’t successfully put fruit in between the layers. The layers are ALWAYS uneven.

They taste yummy, they just look inedible.

So when the timer went off and I removed the cake from the oven. I stared at it with animosity. I just knew it would fail me. I couldn’t imagine a world pineapple cakewhere I would invert that pan and the entire cake would come out in one gorgeous piece. I had visions of me trying to jam the pieces together like a moist jigsaw puzzle.

I flipped the pan upside-down (hence the defining characteristic of the cake) and patted it with my potholders. I prayed to any God willing to do me a solid. I held my breath.

This is what came out.

I did the biggest happy dance in recent kitchen history. I finally pulled one off.

I’m 100% certain that it was all because My Honey had wisely bought two sets of everything as a talisman.

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