For reasons we do not know, at different ages we all have
different ideas of what qualifies as Big Fat Fun. For instance, in
my 20’s it was slam dancing in a mosh pit.
For reasons we do not know, at different ages we all have different ideas of what qualifies as Big Fat Fun. For instance, in my 20’s it was slam dancing in a mosh pit.
In my early 30’s it was water skiing. And now in my, er, um, later 30’s, it’s the Annual Holiday Festival Cakewalk at the local elementary school.
Now, for those of you who don’t know exactly what a cakewalk is, let me explain.
It’s a game where, after paying for the privilege, you walk around in a circle as music plays and when it stops you stand on a number.
Then a number is pulled out of a basket, and if you’re standing on that exact same number, you get to – wait for it – pick a cake of your choice from the winners table!
Oh, all right. So maybe it’s not right up there with, say, bungee cord jumping and cross-country skiing on the official list of The Most Thrilling Things to Do on This Planet.
But, hey, let me just say that with my cooking skills, there’s nothing more exciting than owning a cake that I didn’t have to bake.
But, the really funny thing about this is that we all know you can just go to the grocery store and buy a cake for less than $10.
But do I let that bit of information stop me from spending twenty bazillion dollars trying to win one? No! Should it have?
Don’t bother answering that! Still, there’s something about the thrill of the chase that’s irresistible.
But getting back to my story.
When I got to the festival, I handed the cakewalk monitor a ticket and waited for the music to start.
And I would like to say that I stood on the winning number, picked out a triple layer chocolate cake with butter cream frosting and went home happy. And in a perfect world this would be true. But we all know this is not a perfect world
Which means that, after 10 minutes, I still didn’t have a cake. After 20 minutes, I had three new blisters and my feet began to drag.
After 30 minutes I had used all of my tickets and most of the oxygen in the room. But. Still. No. Cake.
Then I noticed something suspicious: most of the cakes were being won by cute little kids. Not that I’m insinuating anything, mind you. But STILL.
And to make matters worse it seemed that people everywhere were walking around flaunting their cakes. Especially one particularly annoying person, who I’ll call my best friend Barb, who won three, count ’em, THREE cakes.
So I did what any desperate cake loser would do: I came up with an airtight strategy.
I would lurk around the cake table, trip whatever kid won, and steal his cake and run away.
Oh, relax. For those of you who work in social services, of course I’m kidding.
Instead, I implemented the much more covert Plan B, which was to give my friend Barb, and all of her family, my tickets so they could play for me.
This is known in certain circles as, “stacking the deck.”
Or, in other certain circles, as “cheating.” WhatEVER.
The important point here is that Barb’s number was drawn and I won a cake.
A CAKE! And, yes, although the cakewalk police might have a thing or two to say about this. I have two words for them: Oh. Well.
Because, even more importantly, I now have a fabulous homemade cake for the annual Farmer family Christmas potluck dinner that I can pass off as my own.
Sure, some may call this sneaky. Me? I call it efficiency.
Sometimes with cake, and Big Fat Fun, it’s all a matter of perspective.
