Birthday countdown
The cake is in the oven. Nineteen years ago this day, at dawn, I was lying in the labor and delivery room on the top floor of the hospital on the highest hill in town while a thunderstorm tried to tear the building apart. K had just been taken to the nursery and I was enjoying the hell out of being alone inside my body.
Marzipan. Hmm.
This is fine. I am coping.
[ID: a very blue lump of marzipan held in a very blue hand.]
He's a cutie!
[ID: small blue dragon with candy eyes and a fatalistic expression. He has been through some shit. He is perched atop a round cake with chocolate icing and twenty unlit birthday candles are array in front of him like a potential plume of fire.]
From the back, it looks like he is just about to slip off the cake. I HOPE he doesn't slip off the cake. It is in the fridge, now. There are gold and silver sprinkles scattered around.
Well the Good News was that the dragon was so cute and personable that the birthday girl and everybody else loved it but
The Bad News is that the dragon was so cute and personable that no one wants to cut and consume that part of the cake.
I'm going to have to remove him so that no one feels guilty as his li'l candy eyes stare accusingly at them.
Can chickens eat marzipan. Hlep.