So - this past week, I turned the age where I officially have forgotten what age I am. No joke, I've officially answered wrong more times than I've answered correctly.... therefore, I believe I am diagnosed as senile. Or old.
I have to put it in writing because it won't count otherwise - but this is the last year that I'm allowed to make my own cake. It's time to pass on this own time-honored tradition of homemade cake and good frosting to my husband, who can one day pass it along to my children.
Because if I one day birth children who do not grow up to make me homemade cakes with delicious icing... my life is for naught.
On another note... what in the eff can I blame my lame cake-frosting skillz on? I'm pretty sure I need to take a class in this ASAP. Cause whoa, bad.
Maybe next year?