Ok, so I am complaining

My birthday was yesterday. When i was in Minneapolis last week, I treated myself to the things I wanted and knew Marc would just not be able to purchase for me. For one, he wouldn't know which shoes would tickle my fancy or which purse gave me shudders of pleasure. So, I treated myself and enjoyed my birthday extranvagances.

Yesterday I had one request of Marc and that was to stop at the grocery store and pick up a small sheet cake; either chocolate with vanilla frosting or vanilla cake with chocolate frosting. He came home with a marble cake with non-dairy whipped frosting. Honestly, it was like a really runny imitation cool whip. NASTY! And he had them write on it: Happy 44th birthday Geralyn! Who in the hell puts their wifes friggin age on a cake??? After scraping off the nasty frosting, we ate the cake which was only slightly dry as a marble cake can be.

I was joking about this with our pastor this morning when he called to chat and he (jokingly) said it was my fault that Marc messed up since I requested a different cake this year. You see, every other year of our 19 years of marriage, Marc bakes a scrumptious cheescake for me with his loving hands and heart. But oh no, not this year. I had to change it up on him and cause his brain to go into spasms since he actually had to go to the grocery store and buy a cake.

He just walked in the door a full 2 hours early with all the needed ingredients to bake his famous cheescake. I suspect sometime before I head to bed tonight, I will be savoring a bite or two of still slightly warm chocolate cheescake. To die for is all I can say.

What I really want to know however, is how men can be such overwhelmingly creatures of habit?? How can one small request cause him to lose his ability to read, think, and reason. Why was the grocery store cake so stressful that it caused him to not read the labels on it identifying it as, well, gross and yucky non-dairy topping? Hell, he didn't even have 4 bickering kids with him while he was shopping for the ONE item. Had he been dragging the kids along with him I might understand his impulsive and wrong choice in cakes.

Whew, I feel better now. I love him to peices but I really love him when he is tinkering in the kitchen with the springform pan and cream cheese! I feel like Pavlov's dog. I'm drooling already!