Wednesday. I was tired. I haven't been sleeping well the past few nights and worry the same will happen tonight (blame the sinus pressure and the NyQuil not kicking in fast enough ... I guess I can also blame the random web surfing that is keeping me occupied enough to stay awake but to run off on tangents ... FOCUS). The bakery. On Wednesday. Right? Yes!
I was exhausted. And looked it apparently (as commented by the little flitting Tinkerbell). My assignment that day was to frost cakes. Lots of them. Loads. There was a six inch red velvet with the most random birthday inscription I have ever come across and a challenge to fit on the small face of the cake. But, mission accomplished.
There were more red velvet cakes. An Achilles heel (much like pancakes, baguettes, some pastas, you get the picture). I could never slather on enough of the buttercream to get the cake to look just as I really wanted it to look. Perhaps I thought too much. Perhaps I allowed myself too much time to frost each cake. Not so much on Wednesday. Too make cakes. I got to work, pulled out the off set spatula, gave the buttercream a good turn, flipped over the first layer, frosted, cleaned, smoothed, flipped on the second, frosted, cleaned smoothed, and then decorated as instructed. Perfect. Even by my standard. There were four more like it before I moved on to other cakes.
A good day. An accomplished day. And I got to squeeze in a Pilates class before work. Joy!
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