So it was Aud's birthday last weekend, and by some funny chain of events, we ended up having more cake than we ever want to in our lives.
A couple of weeks ago, I won a kitchenaid mixer. A thing of beauty that is. Red, shiney, and lots of muscle beneath the shell. So what better way to present a cake to the love of my live, than to make it myself? I'll be so amazing and everything will go well right?
Not right. In fact, everything that could have gone wrong did. By the time I left for Aud's place, I was covered in a sticky film of chocolate, sugar, flour and sweat. And frustration. Made a mess, dropped a chocolatey whisk, spilt milk. The works. But nonetheless, a cake was produced. A whole kilo of awesome.
Took a quick shower, put the gorgeous cake into a nice cardboard box and then rushed out of the house to catch a waiting cab. And then it happened. The cardboard handle tore off, the cake fell and went khabloosh. All the effort and all the pent up frustration came flowing out of my eyes.
So I went to Aud's house, defeated, empty handed, deflated. We had a store bought cake for her birthday, and it was nice, we had dinner, it was also nice, and then we swore we'll get back at the universe and make another cake that would put the first one to shame. We'll rise and take on the challenge hand in hand. Two of us, we cannot be beaten.
And it was beautiful.
I love you Aud.