I love cake, in any form or flavor. In fact, I love sweets in general. They are my downfall, or more precisely, my source of weight gain. I just have no will power when it comes to dessert, so any excuse I have for making a cake I will take it.
This past weekend was son number two's birthday - he is the second of six children, five of which are boys. (Now, don't you feel sorry for me? Actually, you should feel sorry for the one and only girl born smack dab in the middle of all those brothers.) This particular birthday was a special one because said son turned thirty.
I know, I'm amazed that I have a child that old and what's more amazing is that he has an older brother! To ease the pain I was feeling of thinking about that fact, I made myself a cake.
It was a nice, gooey, messy cake with crushed up butterfingers sprinkled on top. Boy, oh boy, was it ever yummy. I just had to eat this cake all gone, lest son number 2 thought it was his birthday cake and that we had already cut into it. See the dilemma? The cake must be eaten, um-hmm, not a problem.
So, birthday day arrives and said son needs a cake of his very own. Lets forego the standard birthday cake and go for something different, just because I kept eyeing that bag of oreo cookies in the kitchen pantry.
Yum, a nice chocolate cake covered with oreo goodness. Needless to say, two cakes in one weekend, I have got to get some self control. Looks like its celery and carrot sticks for a while.