retro
Candy Apple Birthday
For my 11th birthday–a million years ago–my dad took all my birthday guests out into his bake shop, into the “sugar room” and made everyone a true, live cinnamon candy apple. Even though this was a long, long time ago, I remember this party very well. I had a pink party dress and got a Newborn Thumbelina Doll. When I opened it, the gal in the blue dress, Donna, gasped and said, “You got…a doll?” like someone had poked her in the eye or something.
I was quite confident in my right to love dolls even at such a mature age so I said, “Yeah, would you like to hold her?” She was caught completely off guard and said, “Ahhh…ok.” Everyone took turns pulling the string in the doll’s back and holding her while she moved like a “real, live baby,” and to their surprise, they loved it.
Believe it or not, I can still name every single soul in this shot. The funniest part about this picture? My mom, the cameraman, got everyone in it…but me…
the birthday girl.
That’s my arm, there on the far left.
Thanks mom.
heh, heh
Beasty
I’d like to introduce you to our dearest and most beloved kitty from my childhood. Laurie and I brought her home in the wagon one day. A neighbor lady from down the block saw us playing with the kitten in her yard and came out and said, “You can’t have that kitty, but…” handing us a different kitten, “you can have THIS one,” you know, like we’d won the grand prize or something. We felt pretty dang lucky–winning the kitty lottery like that, so naturally we took her and ran all the way home.
Now Laurie was a little older than me and much smarter–at the time–so she briefed me on the plan. See, Daddy didn’t particularly like cats. He liked dogs…big dogs…that don’t really get along with cats. But mama–she liked cats, so it would be important to get to mama first, waaaay before daddy caught on. Because if we sold mama on something, then it would be so. She could talk daddy into anything. ANYthing. Trust me on this.
So, I stayed out on the side of the house while Laurie went in to see if the coast was clear. It was. No daddy in sight. We brought the kitty in and she purred right up to mama and that was that. We gave her some warm milk and fixed her a snuggley box bed with an old towel for a blanket. By the time daddy came home that little cat was curled up fast asleep in mama’s lap and we’d already named her Beasty.
Poor Daddy never stood a chance.
The Cursed Lamb Cake
My daddy made this cute little lamby cake because he was a professional chef and he had a very cool, cast iron mold and…well…he knew what he was doing.
About fifteen years after this photo was taken I was thinking that I was pretty darn smart and persuaded my mom to sneak the lamb mold out of my dad’s shop and let me borrow it for my Foods class. It would be incredible and we’d certainly impress everybody and get an A+ for our efforts. Seriously, how hard could it be? I mean after all, my dad was a chef. Surely some of his skills would have rubbed off on me–wouldn’t you think?
Yeah…
It was all going quite nicely and according to our plan. The lamb cake baked up just fine and came out of the mold pretty well–except for that one part of his left foot. No big deal, we’d just fill in the hole with frosting and no one would be the wiser. All three of us pitched in to iced the darn thing and even threw a few wads of coconut on for extra effect. Oh, yeah, it was perfect. So in our haughty delight, we skipped up to the teacher for our grade but just as we approached her desk–you know–to be handed our A+, the wretched lamb’s dopey frosted, coconutty head fell off. Plop. Just like that.
There must be some kind of adrenalin or endorphin or something the floods the system in a crisis such as this, that causes uncontrollable, manic laughter–you know, the wheezing, snorting kind. We whirled around and ran back to the prep table and tried, through our hysteria, to paste the cake head back in place with more…frosting. Oh, hush. It seemed like a good idea at the time. But no. The ugly thing slid right back off and this time it broke in half besides.
One of the girls–Debbie, I think it was–came up with the brilliant idea to poke it all back together with toothpicks–and that seemed to do the trick. Never underestimate the holding power of 750 carefully placed toothpicks. Just when we finished our masterpiece the teacher came by and made an attempt to slice a piece of the ear off to taste. We screamed at her…all of us…at one time. Scared the poor lady half to death. But we were imagining the school newspaper headlines, reading, “Home Ec Teacher Impaled By Pick Infused Lamb Head…” and we just couldn’t risk it. I think she thought that we were protecting the cuteness of our creation with no idea we were actually saving her life. So, to be more considerate, she took a slice out of the foot–the left foot and buzzed from our kitchen.
That afternoon, we received a note from the teacher which read:
“Other than the fact that the left foot was made entirely from frosting, I have to say that your lovely lamb cake held up quite well. Usually, the head falls off. But then, your father is a chef, afterall. B+”
We laughed all the way home.
Winner!!
Congratulations to our “Name That Doll” contest winner…
Sabrina!!
She has won a $25 Gift Card to one of our favorite places…
Thanks to everyone who entered…that was dang fun.
:]
Kitty of the Week
When I was about 10, I had this sweet little kitten named Snagglepuss–you know…after the cartoon. If you’re much too young to remember that one–be sure to click the link. You’ll see the resemblance…ok, no necktie…but I’m just saying…
Anyway–he used to follow me around and just sit and watch whatever was going on. Once while I was scrubbing the kitchen floor, that little guy just stood there for over an hour watching the whole process. When I’d scoot over to a new place–he’d scoot over too. I realize now, that I should have found a teeny, tiny scrubbie and taped it to his little paw…we’d have gotten finished in half the time.
Seriously, this sweet little guy looks like he’d have been happy to help.
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