A Birthday Squirt

Friday night we had a few people over for Steve’s birthday dinner.

Here is his birthday cake in its naked form. (I know this is a G-rated blog and I apologize in advance for featuring such blatant Cake Nekkidness right here on the Web.)

And here is the cake in its dressed form. It looked fairly lovely except for the fact that I learned (too late) that if you’re going to drizzle decorative syrup over your nicely dressed birthday cake, you should wait until right before serving it to do so. Otherwise the syrup gets sort of melt-y and dribbles down the sides and become altogether unattractive. Sigh. Live and learn.

Here is a lemon pie that one of the birthday guests brought. I took a picture of it because I was inordinately jealous of the perfection of the meringue. I’ve never made meringue in my entire life and I feel just slightly inferior to all the other women in the world who are accomplished meringue makers. Sigh. Maybe I should go to therapy. Followed by cooking class.

Isn’t this just the most beautiful meringue ever?

During the meal, we had a plastic spray bottle nearby because we learned in Snowy College that when a dog is engaging in unwanted behavior, (like begging) a little squirt with the bottle gets his attention and reminds him to (hopefully) not repeat that particular behavior.

After dinner, when I brought the cake in (with great fanfare and trumpets—or at least, fanfare) I did not notice that my mischievous pastor husband was holding the dreaded spray bottle in his hand. Look at that innocence shining from his face.

(I apologize for the quality of these photos; I was messing with the settings and threw something off.)

As I was merrily singing Happy Birthday to my beloved hubby, the man SQUIRTED me! In the FACE! And me being post-surgical and EVERYTHING! After screeching and wiping my face, I wrenched the spray bottle from his hands. And squirted him back! Our guests looked on worriedly. Were the pastor and his wife going to have a throw down fight right there in front of them?

But no. Forgiveness flowed. Sort of. At least Steve was hoping forgiveness was flowing.

Then he pretended he was going to put out the candles with the water bottle. (Which he had wrenched back from my hand.) Such a kidder.

We finally settled down and he made his wish and blew out his candles.

Can you tell we’re easily entertained?