Eating Humble Cake

I should know better.

Remember how I had all those cakes last weekend? While I was elbow deep in shortening and meringue powder, I got another cake order. One of the girls in the ward loved the bear I made for the auction and wondered if I would make one for her birthday. This girl is very, very sweet and I hope da Boo looks to her as a role model. So of course I said sure.

Cringe - her birthday was less than a week away.
Cringe - she wanted the Panda bear.
Cringe - it's one of my more expensive cakes.
Smile - her mom was going to pay me.
Cringe - of course I didn't quote full price, only half. (I know, I know...don't tell the Man!).

Thursday night I baked the cake. The bear cake is made using a two-piece molded pan, with the bear stands on his head while you fill him up through the bum. When I pulled the cake from the oven, some batter had seeped out the bottom seam. No big deal, I thought. It's not much. I also didn't pay attention because I was starting to not feel so great. Then I had a horrible night. I called the family the next morning and apologized but I would not be able to make the cake. I had to say all of this in an answering machine message. If you've even gotten a message from me, you know I just can't keep them short (kinda like my posts, here). That evening, the mother called to see how I was doing (she's the Relief Society President). I said I was feeling much better and maybe I could finish the cake the next day. Turns out the daughter got a little excited and ordered her cake a day early. So it was back on!

Fast forward to the next afternoon. I dump the kids on the neighbor so I can march the cake over to the Birthday Girl's house, one street over. The feet on the bear look a little funny from not getting filled in all the way. No worries. Panda looks cute and the round cake underneath came together really well. I take the bear over and bask to in the admiring "ooohhhhs" of the family members. I hurry back home to get the base. I grab my repair kit as an afterthought (it's bags of icing I used, with tips and a few tools). I walk back in the house and no one is talking.

My great big gigantic head thinks it's because they are speechless in the presence of such talent.

Wrong.

The leg on the bear fell off. No one wanted to be the one to tell me.

After nearly passing out (from trying not to burst into tears), the Birthday Girl and I strategically use toothpicks to fasten the wayward limb back in place. I use the repair kit to cover the toothpicks and the cracks, plus repair the damage from the leg going *splat!* on the counter. I get the cake put together and try not to notice how much it is leaning to one side. By now I am avoiding all eye contact and basically praying that nothing else goes horrible awry, like me tripping and falling flat on the cake.

Then, as I am trying to slink out the door, the mother appears with another check! I couldn't take it. I just couldn't.

And no, I didn't take pictures.