I thought I would post something that makes everyone smile! How about a recipe for an awesome CHOCOLATE cake and a funny story? No? Yes? Whatever...
So for any of you that actually know me...you know I loathe...I mean LOATHE ironing. I would rather buy stretchy clothes that never feel the heat of an iron. As luck would have it, I'm married to a guy who needs his pants creased in the right place and his shirts starched to perfection...yea...poor poor Bebe. AND, my bff irons her clothes every night before she goes to bed, AND my business partner who is mildly insane is an ironing freak too...THESE PEOPLE IRON JEANS! So...needless to say, the iron and I don't meet a lot and I'm really OK with that...or I was until...
It was very pretty Sunday morning and the pants and shirt I wanted Biscuits in were wrinkled beyond wearing. I...being the attentive mommy that I am...walked into the guest room where the iron resides and plugged it in. As I stood there wondering if it was really worth ironing a shirt no bigger than a dolls shirt...my daughter walked in to talk to me. The Bug (as we call her) was chatting away as I started the grueling process of ironing a very small shirt collar when all of a sudden she stopped. This is the conversation that changed my way of thinking...sort of...:
the bug: "Mom...what is that?"
me: "what baby, I'm busy I can't see what you're pointing at" I said while cross eyed trying to crease the sleeve of a shirt
the bug: "Mooo' ooom"
me: "don't Mooo'ooom me, what are you talking about?"
the bug: "WHAT is that TOOL you are using?"
blink blink....what is that tool...oh my...how old was she...losing my mind, counting fast...one, two...six...WHAT...she's six and she doesn't know what an iron is? Oh my...what will her future husband say about me? What will she tell people in school about me? Will her teacher send a note home? Will she tell the carpool mom? Will I be ostracized from carpool? Will they kick us out of school? This is it...all this time I thought my obsession with not eating at a buffet or never eating left overs would ruin her, but I've done it with an iron! I knew I shouldn't have picked the dang thing up....
NOW...I know what you are thinking...Sara, you're so right to have all these feelings and no one thinks your weird...I know I know...but really that wasn't what I was thinking. THIS is what I was thinking after I stopped laughing about it all morning: IF my daughter never remembers me with an iron in my hand, but always remembers seeing me on my knees or my nose in the Word, remembers hearing me Praise God for the big harvest moon, or the sunset painted in the sky...If all she remembers is when the world seemed Topsy turvy we could see where God had blessed us...then life's alright with me. Even if we never carpool again. Amen.
Now...here's some chocolate cake:
20 Minute Chocolate Cake
1 Cup of Water
1 Stick of Butter
¼ Cup of Cocoa
Combine in pan until butter is melted
2 Cups of Flour
2 Cups of Sugar
Mix and combine with butter mixture, add:
1 teaspoon of salt
1 teaspoon of soda
½ Cup of Buttermilk
¼ teaspoon of cinnamon
1 teaspoon of vanilla
Mix and bake at 350 for 20 minutes or until knife comes out clean
¼ Cup of Butter
¼ Cup of Milk
¼ Cup of Cocoa
1 Cup of sugar
2 Teaspoons of Vanilla
Bring to a boil and let it boil for a minute, take off heat and whip it for a little bit then pour on hot cake. Yes…pour it on the hot cake.
Eat up sisters! You are loved!