This may end up being a long tale, but read through because the punch line is fabulous.

Every year for my dad’s birthday (which many of you celebrate as Christmas), my family made a chocolate cake with a white icing. Being the 4 or something geniuses that we were, we gave it the witty monkier of Daddy’s chocolate cake. (I found out recently that it’s really called wacky cake.) The name stuck.

Eventually, we made the cake for every event, from birthdays to parties. The Sister made the icing and I made the cake. When we all moved out the Sister continued to make the cake. I didn’t make it so much for various reasons but this isn’t about me even though the narcisist in me wants it to be.

Except, when the Sister was engaged to “Him” (as she calls him) the cake didn’t turn out right. The cake part just fizzled or something. It may have been our dad telling her (from beyond the grave wooooooo) that this was not the right relationship because when she started dating cyberconte   they figured out why the cake didn’t work.

That’s right. It’s an engagement ring on Daddy’s chocolate cake. The Sister is engaged!!!!