You can swim all you wish, but don't eat the fish...

In order to get the feeling of this birthday you must play this LOUD!
Then imagine me, a lady who could be described in some circles as a "cracker", driving a prius, wearing a white anthropologie sundress, playing this song so loud the windows were shaking, shaking my head back and forth like I'm having a seizure. That's how I roll on my birthday.

Today is my birthday. I'm older than I was when I was 17 and that's all we're going to say about that. My sweet sweet Nipper Knapp did a series of consumer backflips and was able to get me my dream chair from Anthropologie for 75% off. Never mind that he waited until the day before my birthday to buy it, and never mind that it was sold out. Never mind that he wanted to barf when he heard this bit of news. Never mind he has to drive to Nevada tomorrow to pick it up. He got it (with the help of Uncle David doing a recon mission, the anthropologie girls here in LA, and Henderson Nevada, and Sadie lending her SUV for pickup). He's a good hub.

knotted melati chair

He and Jack went to Bottega Louie and got me a stack of boxes of sweets that would make Marie Antoinette blush. They sang happy birthday to me, when I got home from my TWO HOUR massage at Ole Henriksen, and tonight we're going to dinner at Café Beaujolais where Nipper Knapp will allow me to flirt with the wait staff who all look like Johnny Depp and Viggo Mortensen's love child. Fo Shiz, he's a really good hub.

Brenda (Jack's nanny) painted and "dressed" this robot for me with Jack. She said it's a helper robot to help me when she's not around after he starts school. *sob* I told her she has to wear this outfit (including the headdress) for the rest of the month when she's here watching Jack. 

I've gotten sweet sweet birthday wishes throughout the day, and have been really counting my blessings. When I moved to LA 12 years ago, all wide-eyed and dewy, (I should have enjoyed that dew more) I never imagined this life I dreamed of having would actually happen, and be better every day than my 20 something ding dong brain could imagine. Knock wood and chuck some salt (I'm an actor so you know, super superstitious), this is already a very good year. 

cake fail

I am genetically predisposed to do too much. My mom went to law school  while working nights at the airport post office loading trucks, with a newborn, and a four year old at home. While she was doing that my dad was an elementary school principal by day, Phd candidate by night. He runs marathons. I have never undertaken anything nearly as ambitious as my parents did in their early years, or even now. Just listening to what they do in an average day makes me want to take a nap. My pursuits are limited to bathroom painting, mommy and me French class, and birthday cake baking. I don't finish most of these things, but I start them, usually all at once, because it's in my DNA to do so. Quelle domage.

But when I set out to make baby Jett's (Cleo's little sister) 1st birthday cake, I never imagined that I would be this big a failure. I killed two cakes in 12 hours. Jett and Cleo's parents are in a band, so I thought it'd be cute to make her cake a record. Old fashioned vinyl. The whole thing was Nipper's idea actually. We had just watched this show about the making of Saturday Night Fever, and when I saw the label for the album it brought me back to my childhood. Remember that little bull? I think I must have had kids album published by RSO, because I'm fairly sure my parents did not own Saturday Night Fever.

Monday night I made funfetti cake. Yum. unfortunately when I took it out of  the oven, the very center wasn't done and it fell. That's what I get for making box cake in a 14 inch cake pan. So Nipper and I were forced to eat it, warm, right out of the pan. Again, quelle domage. 

Tuesday morning, 8 hours to party time and I have no cake. Jack and I went to go to the store, but got sidetracked by Fiona. I had one box of dark chocolate cake, and one box of yellow butter cake in the cupboard. I thought, "Hey, I'll make a half and half cake, how creative!" HA. excuse my language, but the fucking thing fell apart taking it out of the pan. 

I was FORCED to eat as much of it as I could while throwing it in the trash and dialing Nipper to pick up Crumbs cupcakes for the party. Quelle horreur!!! It was delicious but two cakes in one day is my limit. I had even printed a cute "record label" for the top of it. Oh well. 

Dear Jett, I'm sorry you didn't have a proper cake for your first birthday. Last night when we sang Happy Birthday to you, you smiled so big, we sang it twice. I think you've forgiven me already. Hope so.

To see lots of things that never should have happened to something as nice as cake, check out cakewrecks. One of my all time favorite time wasters. 

My sous chef

Nipper's mom came for a visit last Thursday which also happened to be her birthday. Jack and I made her a four layer lemon cake with lemon curd and fresh whipping cream in between the layers and topped with more fresh whipping cream. We've got this little wooden stool with sides called the kitchen helper that puts him right up at counter level, so he can crack eggs and stir. He's pretty helpful for a two year old...

Once it was finished I sent him out of the kitchen and carefully placed the Happy Birthday candles. But the shelf in the fridge was too low, and the cake wouldn't fit with the candles on it. SO... I took the candles off and had Nipper move the dag gumb shelf. We were able to just squeak it in, and keep it cool until she arrived later that night. When we took it out, I let Jack arrange the candles. Here's what it looked like when I did it:

Here's what it looked like when Jack did his clearly superior decorating job:

And here's what it looked like when we were all eating it for breakfast the next morning:

luck be a ladybug

When I was 5 I participated in a cake walk. Earlier tonight when I was starting to write this post, I typed "cake walk" into google, because when I was telling this story at a 2 year old's birthday party this weekend, the phrase "cake walk" elicited blank stares. I was shocked to find this to be the wikipedia entry for "cake walk" :

Cakewalk is a traditional African American form of music and dance which originated among slaves in the Southern United States. The form was originally known as the chalk line walk. The dance takes its name from competitions held on plantations prior to Emancipation, in which prizes, sometimes cake, were given for the best dancers.

Uhm, what? That has NOTHING to do with what I was talking about. Is this the common understanding of the term? What did I just say to those neighborhood parents? JESUS CHRIST!!! I read further, and way down at the bottom, there was this little footnote:

The term "cakewalk" is often used to indicate something that is very easy or effortless. Though the dance itself could be physically demanding, it was generally considered a fun, recreational pastime. The phrase "takes the cake" also comes from this practice. Along the lines of this "easy or effortless" meaning, there is the modern Cakewalk (carnival game) which requires no dancing skill at all to win.

OK! that's what I meant, carnival game. I think it was in a church parking lot or a public park. It was just a bunch of little kids walking in a circle, while music played. When the music stopped, you landED on a number, and that number was the cake you got. It went something like that. Well, I landed on the number 20, (my brain is backed up with all kinds of useless information like this, but I can't remember anything important whatsoever) and the cake I got was a ladybug cake. And that cake was round, and red, and had black licorice spots, and was the most beautiful thing my sheltered little eyes had ever laid eyes upon. I was beside myself. I WON THE LADYBUG CAKE!!! I WON THE LADYBUG CAKE!!! Two hands lifted as in prayer, I carried my beloved ladybug cake carefully back to our table. But somehow, one of my feet tangled with the other, and down I went, slow motion, John Woo style, knees crashing to the ground, ladybug cake overturning, and smashing to bits in the grass below. Sob... It seriously still makes me sad to think about it. The cakewalk ladies offered me another cake, but it was futile, there was no consolation.

Jack's friend Cleo turned two on Saturday and I decided that she was the perfect reason to shake off all that cakewalk sorrow and bring back the ladybug cake. I baked two, a pink, and a red, in case of some sort or ladybug cake curse. If one went down, we'd have a backup. I wasn't going to let Cleo experience cake grief at such a tender age. As I walked up the hill to the party, I was repeating in my head "DON'T drop the cake, DON'T drop the cake, DO NOT DROP IT!!!!" Internet, I have shaken the curse of the cakewalk once and for all. 

I've also included some photos of an owl cake and owl cupcakes that I baked for Jack's friend Hattie's 2nd birthday back in February. Hattie's mother, my dear friend Sadie, loves owls. Well, she loves them for Hattie. We always joke, that in ten years, Hattie is going to be like "mom, what was the deal with all those freakin owls? I HATE owls!!!" Sorry little Hoot.