birthday blunders

The Hunky Monkey (my B.H.) was at Costco last night, picking up a couple things after filling up his tank with gas. I call him, “While you’re there, pick me up some whipping cream, and I’ll make a chocolate roll-up for my birthday cake.”

Apparently, Costco has up-sized dairy quantities. They are no longer selling the quart size. Oh no. Now I am the proud owner of a half-gallon of heavy whipping cream. Granted, it was a very good price for a half-gallon of heavy whipping cream. 5-something dollars. Definitely a good deal, but even so, I’ve got lots of whipping cream. I’ll be whipping and whipping and whipping… lots of whipped cream and freezing up like three-hundred and two double-dollops.

I digress.

So, as I now have a half-gallon of whipping cream, I thought to my self, “Hmmm, Self…. I’ll just make two chocolate roll-ups. Eight people, including a dessert-loving moma, and a lot of whipping cream mean that I need, not one cake, but two.”

So cake-bakin’ I did. As I unrolled my two beautiful cakes, whipped of a bunch of cream, and began to spread it out on the first of the cakes, I thought to myself, “Self, you really shouldn’t do this right here! Now you will have to move a cream-filled, rolled-up chocolate cake from the counter to the dish!” Then I paused and thought again to myself, “Ah, Self! You can do it! After all you’re a big girl now!”

So I spread.

And I rolled.

Apparently jinxed by the phone call conversation with my brother not 17 seconds beforehand—about none other than about baking dumping catastrophies...

And I dumped.

And then I stomped my foot and let out a frustrated growl.

Happy birthday, huh.

At least I made two.:)

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