Forgive me, friends, for once again waiting until the very last second to blog for the week. This week has been different than others. A lot of the same motions were in effect, but I have had to redistribute my focus in more than a few ways, and I think you’d understand if I could recount them…
For one thing, I have literally just baked the gender of a baby in the oven! That’s right. Pulling flour from my hair while typing this, as we communicate, you and I. And you heard me correctly. I have personally come to new terms with the popular phrase, the “bun in the oven.”
Earlier this week, my cousin – in the second trimester of her pregnancy – had her ultrasound technician silently write her baby’s gender on a piece of paper, and seal it in an envelope. Instead of opening the envelope, she drove it straight to my house and placed it still sealed in my hands. As for my part in this James Bond-esque adventure – why, I’m the baker! This is, of course, the natural progression, when one is about to give birth… But for you friends who may not know, the baker bakes the gender of the baby (shaded pink or blue) in the form of a cake, conceals it under thick layers of plain white fondant, and waits for their pregnant cousin to cut it open in front of a roomful of family and friends, for everyone to find out together!
The celebration is tomorrow. Of course, I am the only person who has the privilege of knowing the one exceptionally fine detail. I whisked the batter tonight, full of knowing. I spread the icing in its obvious, obvious shade. I dreamed of the reactions as I turned off the timer. What a riot, this life. Colorful and surprising.
Admittedly this celebration comes at the heels of a few changes in my every day. The details of these changes are as top secret as the color sported by the cake. But, as I intend to show you pictures of the cake soon, so will I gradually reveal all else. I just wanted to share this latest occasion because, in truth, it makes me happy. It’s extravagant and over-the-top, and being the only person who knows the gender of someone else’s baby is a little bit maddening, but the occasion transports me somehow. It is yet one other way to celebrate this life that I am so grateful for.
All this aside, it is late. So, goodnight, friend! Goodnight. Sleep well.