...you make cake pops!
At least this was my frame of mind after it was all said and done. In the midst of the disaster, it was lots of cursing, tears, and just plain evilness. It all started with the glorious, collaborative idea of my quirky oldest daughter and myself of transforming her birthday cake into a multi-tiered, topsy-turvy, Mardi Gras themed, show-stopping masterpiece. In my mind, this cake was tall, crooked, bright colored, and jaw-dropping. In reality... it cracked. Oh yes, cracked, right down the middle of the bottom tier, bringing the top tier crashing down into the gaping ravine this crack created. Of course, my reaction was not one of calm regrouping. That would have been too easy. This particular disaster, being very important to me since it was my beautiful daughter's 8th birthday cake, brought on some loud, ugly, snotty, and downright stupid waterworks (not to mention some pretty R rated outbursts).
So, how did I get my zen back to properly deal with this drama? Gabi, of course! In one giant move, envoking the angst of Patti Smith and all other angry, misunderstood punk artists, I was just about to slam the whole mess into the trash. Gabi walks into the kitchen right on the downswing into the garbage heap and said, "You know, I really don't like cake anyway and that would make some really good cake balls." A sense of calm immediately swept over me like I had just reached enlightenment and inner peace and I set the mountain of cake onto the counter, swept up my now 8 year old savior, and gave her the biggest hug and kiss ever (much to her dismay ;-) ).
And, thus, Gabi's cake truffle tower and embellished king cake dessert table erupted from Mount Mardi Gras Cake Mess!
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