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HB

Today is TA’s birthday. He told me not to get him anything, so I didn’t.

Actually he said, “Don’t get me anything extravagant.”

But that’s all I like to give! What’s the point of a present if it’s not over-the-top fancy expensive wonderful? (Obviously the kinds of gifts I like to receive.)

The other thing throwing a monkey wrench into my plans is that the car is, like, seriously very nearly mostly dead. It feel like there are only two out of five good gears left, and driving to the “over-the-top fancy expensive wonderful” place means getting on the freeway and two gears is just not safe.

I’m making him a chocolate cake instead. I found a recipe purporting to be from this bakery and I am crossing my fingers that it will turn out. It’s a crap shoot since I’ve never made this cake before, but the house smells delicious and I’m taking that as a good sign. Sadly the recipe called for two 8-inch cake tins, and I only have 9-inchers. My cake will be slightly flatter, and anyway, it’s not the size that matters…

so they say.

A birthday is not a birthday without a proper cake. Frankly I prefer to buy cakes from good bakeries because not only does nothing say birthday like ‘cake’ but nothing says birthday like ‘cake made by someone else who is a professional with a staff of happy well-paid oompa loompas doing the dishes.’

I really was born into the wrong social class. I am exceptionally good at ordering, discriminating, decorating, strolling, appreciating, and lounging seductively on Louis XV chaises longues.

I am not a shabby baker. I am more than competent. It’s just that I’d prefer to spend peak brain time being idle or daydreaming.

I really need to find a patron.

Or a sugar daddy.

Happy Birthday, Terence!

1:48 p.m. - 2004-09-09

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