My 70th Birthday's Slide Quake Cake

I woke up on the thirteenth day of December, 2004, thought a moment and spoke to the walls with some excitement, "I made it!  I actually made it to seventy!"

My next thought I found troubling.  Let's see, what am I supposed to do next?  It came to me slowly.  The next step was to raise my body onto my seventy-year-old blood circulation-deprived numbed feet.  The next task made me dance.  I hurried to the bathroom.

That evening our family birthday ritual took place.  My brother Bob and his wife, Patti's birthday party for three members of our family:

1. Bob and Patti's son Frank's wife Kim.

2. Patti and Bob's son Lee's wife Jennifer.

3. Me, Don.  Don Hurst. 

Present were:

Frank and Kim's beautiful and brilliant daughter, Alyssa. 

Their handsome and brilliant son, Jacob. 

Lee and Jennifer's curly-top two-year-old daughter, Madeline.  Two years prior, at our three-birthday ritual, baby Madeline helped make Funny rule the day.

Lee obtained a fart box.  That's a little box that mimics a string of never ending, long drawn out sounds of flatulence that makes for Funny.  Lee, and probably Jennifer, put this box in the bassinette below baby Madeline's blanket.  Lee expertly handled the control.

Bob, Don, Frank, Lee, Kim, Jennifer all find farts funny to one degree or another.  Patti is embarrassed by farts, having never let one herself.  Well, of course Jennifer and Kim never let one either, but I'd expect one from them before I would Patti.

From below baby Madeline commenced blatant long drawn out adult fart blats.  Bob, Don, Frank, Lee, Kim, and Jennifer laughed with each fart outburst.  Patti covered her mouth and started at baby Madeline.  Her face became red, her hand tight against her mouth.  More farts.  Again.  Fart!  Faaaart!  Faaaaaaaaaarrrrrtttttt!   Patti lost it, her hand blew away from her mouth and the laughter broke free.  She bent over as her mirth-dam exploded, her eyes watered, and she turned several shades of colors I've never seen before.  Lee was relentless, and the farts kept coming.  We all laughed at the farts and at Patti's uncontrolled laughter.  Meanwhile, Lee expertly produced more farts for baby Madeline. 

Eventually, concern for the baby brought Patti back from her laugh indulgence, and Lee quickly explained the joke.  That was the 2002 three-birthday laugh fest our family would remember for the rest of our lives.

Nothing at our 2004 three-birthday celebration could be as funny. 

Until, Patti's Slide Quake Cake.  A pure unplanned event.

First, my birthday card from Frank's family was encouraging.  It had a picture of an old dog with his eyes shut, sitting and thinking.  HAPPY BIRTHDAY!  Gosh, Let's see, in dog years you'd be… I turned the page.  … DEAD.  

Group laugh. 

On to the innovative Slide Quake Cake; or more precisely, cakes.

Innovation one, Patti tried something new, using pudding between the layers of the cake.  Innovation two, Patti made two half cakes, one chocolate with chocolate icing and the other white with lemon icing, butting them together to form one cake. 

Understand, Patti is a fantastic cook, pretty much perfect.  Further understand, Bob is a tough, kind hearted business man who isn't prone to outbursts of uncontrolled laughter. 

To prepare us for what we were about to see, Patti apologized before bringing out her cake-cakes.  The lights were turned down and she walked in with candles aflame.  Candles were quickly blown out by collective winds and the lights turned up.  There before us, the, soon to be as famous as Madeline's farts two years earlier, the Slide Quake Cake.

It is difficult to describe these two half cakes pressed together on one platter.  First, they leaned away from each other at the top like two people with bad breath.  Secondly, the cakes had a whole box of toothpicks holding them together.  Thirdly, the cakes were shifting on their pudding layers.  Two towering structures with crumbling foundations. 

Bob started to laugh.  He couldn't stop, which made us all laugh.  Oh, but the cakes were not done, at least the chocolate half.  The more Bob laughed the more the table vibrated like an earthquake's aftershock.  The chocolate cake quivered, pulled away from its mate, separated and slid off onto the white linen tablecloth, turned icing side down, toothpicks sticking up like a dead bug's feet, pudding belly up.

Bob exploded into laughter.  He bent over and held his stomach and put his head on the table, roaring in mirth, much as Patti had done two years before during baby Madeline's fart extravaganza.  He had to excuse himself and escaped into the kitchen, where he laughed and laughed and laughed.

The cake was totally delicious, and I thought creative beyond the call of duty. 

I can hardly wait until next year.