I never met my mom's father, but tales of his coolness persist.
His name was Henry. (Sawyer's name was almost Henry.) He was a left-handed pitcher in minor league baseball in the 1920's. (I'm left handed. I can't throw for shit, though.) He hurt his elbow and never made the majors, so worked as a contractor building roads, bridges, and the like in Chicago. In the 1920's and 1930's. He was a Mason. (He was not a gangster, but HEY Chicago in the 1920's!)
Henry's birthday was on Christmas Eve. His infinite coolness aside, he always sort of got the shaft for his birthday. Less presents, and/or birthday presents thoughtfully wrapped in Christmas paper and given to him with his (indistinguishable) Christmas presents, also thoughtfully wrapped in Christmas paper. You get the idea.
For years, Mom would make a birthday cake at Christmas. In addition to the legions of cookies, truffles, candies, and the like that my father's customers would send to him, we would also tuck into a birthday cake in honor of Grandpa Henry. In later years, Mom stopped doing it. Logical considerations took over, I suppose.
I decided to revive the tradition this year, in large part because I didn't have time to make cookies because I was lawdogging my face off for the entire month of December. I also recently discovered Capital City Bakery, a local Austin bakery that makes THE MOST AMAZING THINGS, which happen to be vegan.
Truth be told, I ordered Durel's birthday cake from them in October because I was dairy-free at the time (courtesy of Sawyer) and wanted to have some damn cake. The cake was so good that I've been looking for an excuse since then to order another one.
Anyway, as I sat at my own breakfast bar to indulge in my Christmas cake, Sawyer decided to join me. In the spirit of the holidays and all that is dairy free, I decided to let him.
|Whatchoo looking at, punk? This is MY CAKE.|
Hope your Christmas was filled with tasty treats and things that were joyfully messy.