Each year, June 1 manages to surprise me. I've been slogging along through April rain, then just beginning to enjoy a few warm days in May (with a few thunderstorms still scattered in there), and all of a sudden, the clouds part and the sun shines and angels sing arias (or perhaps just the voices in my head, but arias nonetheless...)
All of a sudden, it is June.
The daylilies bloomed! I have daylilies, apparently! Who knew?
Luckily, this year, I had a whole weekend of prep time to prepare myself for the arrival of June 1. I was struck with a bit of nostalgia and decided to go old school with my birthday cake. (Yes. I baked myself a birthday cake. Is that odd?)
Ah, Rainbow Chip cake with Rainbow Chip frosting. Exactly what I wanted.
The 1980's called. They want their baked goods back.
I sometimes forget how much I enjoy using the mixer until I get it out and then I think -- Why am I not baking things every single day of my life with this thing?
And then I remember that its because I have to do that whole "working" and "making a living" thing. But if I didn't have to do all that, you know I'd be whipping up some fabulous triple-layer buttercream ganache cakes and what not, right?
True story: Sometimes when I am really stressed out, it is helpful to picture a mixer mixing up a batch of cookie dough or maybe a cake batter just like this, until its perfectly smooth and mixed together. I am certifiable, I know.
Part of the joy of making this cake was knowing that I could piddle around in the kitchen as long as I wanted, pouring the batter into the pan and spreading it perfectly even.
And the best part of baking your own birthday cake? Oh, I think you already know.
Twenty minutes (and some cooling time) later, and my colorful cake is getting its multicolored chip frosting.
Rainbow Brite would be so proud.
Mmm. Much more cake than two people should reasonably partake of. I couldn't wait to dig in.
Steven ambled over to watch as I lit the candles. Two on one side (for twenty), and eight on the other side (for eight, obviously). I feel a cliche about "too many candles" and "fire hazard" coming on...
A little singing, a little secret wish-making, and a little pondering of the last twenty-seven years. Somehow, I feel both very young and rather old at the same time. Perhaps I'm old enough to finally realize how young I truly am.
Also, gratuitous shot of the hydrangea blooms. Just 'cause they were pretty in my little Folgers coffee can.
Aaand, cut. Enough with the sentimentality, somebody get me a FORK.
I will not tell you how many pieces of cake I have had since 3 PM Sunday afternoon when I baked this cake, but suffice to say the number is higher than the number of meals we've had since then (which is 4).
Happy twenty-eighth birthday to me. I'm going to try to spend my twenty-eighth year of life learning a lesson that is especially difficult for type-A overachievers: Contentment. Wish me luck.