You've all been so patient with me during my summer of non-blogging.
Really, I don't deserve you.
You'll be happy to know, this weekend was chock full of hilarious WTF moments and general embarrassment... mostly mine.
To start off, I have to tell you a story that will make your heart grow three sizes.
So every Saturday, my parents have dinner with a group of their friends. Sometimes, if I don't have plans, I join them.
Included among this group is my friend Season's parents, Joe and Judy. And last weekend, after returning from a trip to Florida to visit Season, they announced that she is expecting her first child.
And as Season is an only child, consequently, this will be Joe and Judy's first grandbaby.
After dinner, I emailed Season to offer up my congratulations and a few name suggestions. As she shares my love of all things Harry Potter, I tossed out Neville Remus, for a boy, and Ginerva Hermione, for a girl.
I hope she really takes those into consideration.
I thought about Dobby... but that's probably better suited for a big-eared puppy. Maybe?
Anyway, I digress.
Tuesday, Season emailed me to ask for a favor. She was scheduled for an ultrasound on Thursday to find out the baby's gender, and she wanted to know if I would make one of those cakes that are either pink or blue, so when you cut into it, you find out what you're having, and take it to dinner on Saturday for her parents. She would tell her parents that the baby didn't cooperate during the ultrasound.
Despite my staunch assertions that I'm a cold, heartless bitch, I love this kind of sappy stuff.
So I was all over it. By the time Thursday rolled around, I was completely strung out. Is it a boy or a girl??? I need to know these things people!!!
She finally emailed me to put my out of my misery. And warned me that this was top secret, privileged information. As in, if I'm captured by the enemy and tortured, I'm only to give them my name, rank and serial number.
I get it. I can do secrets. Mostly. I mean, the significant other exception is well-documented, okay?
And then I started planning. It wasn't enough to just make a cake. This was a very important cake.
A cake for one of life's great moments.
It had to make a statement.
So I obsessed over this cake for days. What color would I use for the frosting? What would I write on it? How would I decorate it?
And more importantly, what if Joe and Judy decided they weren't going to dinner on Saturday???
We developed a cover story. Judy's birthday was last week, so in the event, they tried to back out, I had to insist they come to dinner, so we could celebrate Judy's birthday.
Friday night I made the cake, using the zebra striping technique I learned from Pinterest.
Saturday morning, I headed to the gym to teach spinning. After class, Mom mentioned that she was headed to the store to buy ingredients to make Judy a coconut cake for her birthday.
Me: Don't make Judy a cake. I'm making Judy a cake.
Mom: O-kay. What kind of cake are you making?
Me: A cake! Okay??? What's with the third degree?!?! Geez!
Saturday afternoon, I whipped up my frosting, and set about evening up my layers so my cake wasn't lopsided.
After I had my (not so) perfectly even cake frosted, I took a moment to admire it.
Because I knew this whole thing could go horribly wrong in the next few moments.
You see, due to my lack of artistic talent, I knew there was no way I could handle drawing some kind of baby related theme on this cake. Especially in icing. Therefore, I decided to go with a short and simple message.
Now I just had to get it to the restaurant.
And when I arrived, everyone was sitting outside as I walked up with the cake in hand. Everyone, except luckily Joe and Judy. I warned everyone to forget they ever saw the cake and hurried inside to hand it off to the hostess.
I explained the reason for the cake to the three hostesses and two waitress, amid a series of "awwwws".
I knew we were going to have quite the crowd for the cake cutting.
Throughout dinner, I was wired. When dinner was served, I scarfed it down so fast, I barely tasted it...
And there sat Judy, slowly cutting up her steak.
I was reaching my breaking point and ready to tell her she was done with dinner. DONE! But thankfully, she was actually finished.
As our waitress stopped to whisper that she would be bringing the cake out in a minute, Joe got up to use the restroom..
My nerves can't take anymore!
But again, fate cooperated, and he returned to the table in time for the cake's delivery.
As the waitress sat the cake on the table in front of them, I took up position on the other side of the table to take pictures.
I handed Judy a knife and waited for her to cut into the cake.
Except they just sat there looking at it...
Me: You don't get it do you. You have to cut into it.
Me: You're still not getting it. What does the cake say? ... And what color is the cake?
Me: And what does pink me?
Judy: It's a girl?
Judy: IT'S A GIRL?!?! ... Wait a minute! How could she tell you and not me?!
Me: Because she wanted to surprise you this way!
Judy was seriously pissed for about 3.7 seconds until it sank in that she's having a granddaughter.
Ginerva Hermione it is!
I promptly texted Season with pictures of the event. She replied that if she had a baby shower up here, she was going to employ my services. I warned her that I boycott baby shower games on principle. Actually all shower games for that matter.
But in lieu of shower games, we could play Harry Potter Scene It.
This is already the best baby shower I've ever been to!