Well into and about to eke out of the first of the five day fiftieth birthday celebration I'm finding myself thinking, over and over, about cake.
I began day one of five going back to where it all started, mom's and she wasted no time talking about cake. In fact, this entire month many of our conversations led back to cake. She: what kind of cake do you like? Me: I Like ALL cake. She: ::raucous laughter:: ALL? CAKE? Me: Well, sure. I. Like. Cake. Sure, some are more favorite than others, but it there is cake, I'm there.
What is particularly funny (read: weird) about this conversation is that I don't recall any birthday of the previous 49 (ok, I have long forgotten the first . . . oh, 9 or so, but . . . ) that didn't prominently feature chocolate cake. Chocolate is my signature flavor. I wondered about her query and she replied, "I don't know what you like."
Mom and I talk every few days (the daily talks falling by the wayside) and see one another once a week (two, at the most) and short of perhaps knowing my preference for types of under-garments, whether it is brunettes, red-heads, or other that revs my motor, or if I prefer peanut butter over jam on my toast, she knows me. Or, should.
However, since coming out to her last Thanksgiving she's made this, "I don't know what you like" statement a few times. She's inquired as to my preferences over types of clothing, jewelry. skin products, beverages, and more. Partly, I see it as a function of aging (hers and mine) as her memory falters and tastes do change sometimes over time. But, partly too, I'm sure she is of the mind that if I could be gay and she not to have known this very fundamental thing about me, then she doesn't know anything.
I get that. But, gay or straight, I. Like. Cake.
Yesterday I got the surprise of all surprises when my newest recruit gifted me with the cake of all cakes, tirimasu (among other things, which will be addressed in another post). She and I were talking and as anyone who has had more than a 15-minute conversation with me may have discovered, talk came 'round to my mother.
I mentioned the cake conversations and that led to the admission that tirimasu was a favorite and dang it if newest recruit didn't bring one for me. And yes, of course I shared with the guys.
Her bringing me cake (and stuff?) WoWsome, that.
During my visit with mom today she handed me a receipt for the cake she'd ordered. I'm to pick it up tomorrow afternoon. It is a chocolate cake with yellow flowers, according to the receipt.
So, it appears day two of the five day fiftieth birthday celebration will have cake in the mix. Good thing I. Like. Cake.