There was a knock on my garage door late Sunday afternoon. I never heard it, but the dogs did and they went apeshit barking and running in circles…actually, the hopped around in circles…and can dogs go apeshit or do they go dogshit? Hmm…NOTE: I have the 3leggers this month and it’s really kinda cool. It’s fun to come home to someone, even if their breath smells like dead fish.
Anyway, I opened the door and there stood Mrs Ballard, one of the older ladies who lives across the street. In her hand was a foil-wrapped package that meant one thing…GOODIES!! She has given me some sweets once or twice and each time they were really good. This was just a bit different.
“I’m here to share my birthday cake with you,” she said, “because I turned 94 today.” Let me tell you something, Dear Reader. If I look HALF as good as this woman does when I’m 94, I’ll be lucky.
I couldn’t believe that she was really that old and asked if I could give her a hug for being 94. She took me up on it and that little ol’ lady is strong! I got a bit nervous that she was wanting a little bit more than cake for her birthday, but luckily, I was way wrong. Whew.
As I reached for the cake plate, she drew back just a hair, probably because I reached quickly. Dude…it’s birthday cake…I’d sell a 3legger for some good butter cream frosting on a white cake…Sorry, I’m drifiting. I took the plate from her and we talked for a few more minutes. Towards the end of the conversation, I realized that I was talking quite a bit louder than I normally do because 1) the dogs were barking and 2) I figured a 94 yr old woman might be hard of hearing. Since it was too late to stop, I kept doing it.
After a few minutes, we said our good-byes, and I walked back into the house to unwrap my treasure. Under the foil was 5 small pieces of white cake…with butter cream frosting…and they were cold. Nothing is better, to me, than cold cake and butter cream frosting. As I stared at then, willing myself to not dive in face first, a little thought blossomed in the back of my head.
She said, “I was sharing my cake with everyone in the neighborhood”…with everyone. For a brief moment, I wondered if the reason she flinched when I reached for the plate was because she wasn’t offering me the whole plate…just one piece from the plate.
I pictured her walking away, shaking her head, and saying to herself, “That fat son of a bitch not only took ALL the cake, but then he yelled at me like I was some old fool. The next time I see him, he’s getting a cane in the nads.”
My next thought? CAKE! WAHOO!