No botchulism here, thank you very much

Did you all feel a disturbance in the Force this weekend? Maybe a ripple in the fabric of space and time?

It’s entirely possible that you did. I have proof that stars aligned or the Higgs Boson fluttered or, I don’t know, perhaps Zeus proved his existence. All I know is that something exciting happened and I was a part of it.

Here is all the proof you need.

Exhibit A – I was notified this week that I was going to need to work with the Bandit on a cake for the Blue and Gold Cub Scout dinner. It needed to represent Scouting. The idea made me want to throw up. I can’t even tell you how stressed out that made me. I can bake a fine cake, that wasn’t the scary part. What I’m not good at is getting it out of a pan–whole–and decorating it. Especially if frosting is involved. I’m not an accomplished froster. You know what I can do really well? I can eat the hell out of cake, and I can critique it like nobody’s business. Decorating? Not so much. Never the less, I present to you a cake that fairly well represents the cub scout hat in a whimsical yet totally identifiable way. In the spirit of full disclosure, My Honey did the little bear shape, but I totally went to the store to get the tube of black piping for his face. The rest is mine and the  boy’s.

Exhibit B – My pop turned 76 today. He loves pie. LUUUUUURVES the pie. What he’d really like is a strawberry rhubarb pie, but rhubarb is a summer thing. So I asked him if he’d rather have plain strawberry or lemon. As you can see he picked strawberry. I’ve never made a strawberry pie from scratch before, but it was freaking GORGEOUS AND YUMMY! The strawberry filling was deliciously not too tart, not too sweet. Home run city.

I’m not getting a big head or anything. There is absolutely no risk of that. I shall not run around like a crazy person thinking I can make banana’s foster or something. Although I have a fairly good idea of what it involves, no one, least of all me, thinks I should be around flames in the kitchen.

Anyway, I’m inordinately proud of myself.