Handy Dad's birthday is on Monday. He's going to be a whole whopping 50-something years old, except now he's edging closer to the 60 ish mark more then he'd care to admit.
"What do you want for you birthday, honey?"
"Nothing," he grumbles. He never wants anything for his birthday. He never even wants it acknowledged. He'd rather die then let you pay attention to him on his birthday. That's just the way he is. Don't even think about making him a birthday dinner, because he'd be just as happy to have a peanut butter sandwhich. Me, I'm the opposite. I don't mind so much if I don't get gifts, but I'm very big on the going out for dinner part. No way I'm cooking on MY birthday. Forget it.
So of course today I ignored him and ordered a chocolate ganache cake. A bakery here in town makes the most mouthwatering, delectable little cakes I've ever had and if you don't order one, they are snapped up quickly by everyone else in town. Last year when we discovered them, we were all,
"Hello my sweet little morsel of chocolatey goodness. How could we not know that you existed? Were we neglecting you? We will never make that mistake again!" While we licked the plate all orgasmic-like and everything. It was baaaaad.
Mostly because then for Valentine's day two days later the Hubs bought me another one, and still another (although it was a larger version even) showed up less then a month later for my birthday. It was orgasmic chocolate fest for a month straight and by the end we had spent something like $60 on chocolate ganache cakes and gained about 5 pounds each. They were happy, chocolate-y pounds that we spent the next 4 months working off and avoiding sweets. I'm not sure if I'll be tempting fate by ordering yet another one, but I couldn't help it. They are just too damn good.
I'll even post a picture for you to drool over, but let's be clear about this. It's MINE. Don't come between a pmsing woman and her slice of chocolate ganache cake, I tell you.
Maybe I should've ordered the bigger one.