While I could once again bring up the fact that I'm slightly depressed about the ending of this school year, I will instead share a humorous story for those of you that are actually reading this blog.
So, I'm at work this weekend, minding my own business, counting down the hours when all of the sudden, I'm abruptly asked by a co-worker if I can write on a cake. I distinctly recall saying that I "wasn't really comfortable, but...I guess..." Long story short, a customer had just picked up a cake from us and discovered the birthday girl's name was spelled wrong. They did not make this discovery until they arrived at their home...in Little Elm. Well, since I'm quite the professional when it comes to writing on cakes, I was promptly sent to repair the botched cake. Yes, you read write, the customer insisted that someone come out to their house immediately to fix their precious cake. This was clearly a life or death situation. I make the trek out to Little Elm with my piping bag of yellow icing and several cake tools. As I headed up to the front door, I bravely attempt to put on my most confident face and tackle the bull head-on, like I have any idea what I'm doing. (It had been about 2 years since I'd written on a cake, but no worries.) Anyway, as I'm scraping off the letters, I can feel my hand start to tremor. It almost becomes a full-fledged seizure, but somehow, I managed to write the e and the y and bolt out of the house before anyone could object to my rudementary icing skills.
It was quite the cake fiasco I must say, but what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger...or in this case, would it be sweeter?