Cake or How This All Started

Cake. When I was a little girl, my mom would take me to the local bakery and have me choose a cake for my birthday party. I don't remember my party (or parties) at all. But I do remember the little journeys we took to the bakery. I remember getting into the car to drive to this small, sweet place of good people. I remember the store-front parking and the slightly steamed windows that looked into the bakery. I remember the sound of the little bell that jingled signaling our arrival as we opened the door. I remember the fresh-baked aroma of giant circle cookies as they cooled off on trays on the counters. I remember looking at the cakes on display, specifically, the tiered, round white icing cakes, with delicate, pretty yellow, red, and pink roses piped on their smooth surfaces.  I would choose exactly this kind of cake, shyly speaking to the baker herself. Ever since, be the event a very special occasion or simply an after school treat made directly from a box, I have understood cake. It's not some escape for me, it's not that life is uncertain - so eat dessert first (although why argue with this?). Nope, it's cake - made from people who love to bake for people who appreciate their efforts and sing their praises. Love what we do, do what we love. Cake.