And yes, David, we used the word "Janx" in our lede just for you. If you noticed, we even Capitalized It! Who knew Your Humble Scribe would hear from an Esteemed Student, residing out in that netherworld known as East Jerusalem? Shalom, & please stay safe!
Anywho, where were we? Ah, yes, the birthday. Which reminds us of cake. Which reminds us of so many tales, some of which were detailed 2 days ago in our Mother's Day post. We'd like to share an Alternative Universe Cake Story today. It's a birthday story and another Mom's Day story, all rolled into one.
Ella Numero Una (not sure about the feminization of Uno--Cherub, please post a comment with the correct usage) was fixin' to celebrate her 4th b-day. Both Babas (Ella named her grandparents "Baba" and "Grandpa Baba"--when referred to in the collective, they were "Both Babas") lived nearby. Being newish parents & all, Hubby & Your Humble Scribe planned a B-day Gathering of Great Magnitude. Baba was appointed to Bake the Cake.
Ella loves lemon, so Mom went about baking what our Nana down Waco Way used to call a "Scratch Cake." Four layers. Lots of sugar, butter, eggs, flour. Real essence of lemon & all that jazz. The party was fixin' to start at 2 p.m. Daddy prepared to drive Mom over with her Crowning Achievement, commemorating the Little Gal's Special Day.
Did we mention that Daddy's from Stamford? Out in West Texas? Did we also tell y'all that he learned to drive at the age of 11, in his Daddy's pick up, sans license & all? He had to sit on a stack of books to see over the steering wheel & Grandpa lashed wooden blocks to the clutch, brake & the accelerator, so he could really put the pedal to the metal on those dusty West of Nowhere roads. And that he did. Zoomin' around, West Texas Style, was a habit he never quite grew out of.
To make a Long Story a whole lot shorter, Daddy's Drivin' Ways did not necessarily conform to the narrow byways of the historic district in which the Babas lived. Brakes? What are brakes? Just downshift, even though you're a Retired Gentleman in your late-60s, & take that narrow, cobblestoned corner at 30 mph--for emphasis.
Both Babas pulled up to our casita intact, but you can guess the status of the Lovely Lemon Cake. Each of the layers had done a sort of sliding thang, going Every Which Way But Loose. And Mom's silk dress (no, we didn't inherit her delectable sense of style)? Not sure what the drycleaning bill was, but we do know this: Baba arrived with the cake, her head held high. Her grandbaby rushed to greet her, further smearing the sticky essence of lemon on both of them. The party could commence. Both Babas had arrived.