Hey - How's it goin?

 

Oh, you know how it is,... it's goin

Yeah, life can get ya down, that's for darn sure.

Right now I am living in a woman's homeless shelter and as much as I'm so VERY grateful to have a roof over my head and a bed to sleep in, it's a tough situation. I am still looking for work and have literally made looking for employment a full time job. Seven days a week I put in as much time as I can applying for jobs online and when I have enough gas in my car, (which isn't often), I apply for jobs in person or check up on jobs I've already applied for. 

Then after the hunt for work I have to apply for housing as I only have 90 days at this shelter. I'm at the halfway mark now, (the clock is tickin!). These crappy economic times are scary for the homeless population, especially the clean and sober, "never been faced with this kinda thing" homeless person.

I share quarters at the shelter with women who never in their wildest dreams thought they'd be where they are and I'm one of them! It was NEVER supposed to be like this for me, not at 55 years old. I envisioned myself content and comfy in my life tending to my garden and spoiling the grandkids - NOT passing out my job resume like a flyer to anyone who'll takeit and wondering if I'll be back living in my car come spring.

~ Home Is Where The Heart Is ~

Being homeless is the loneliest place to be. 

No matter how many people you might be surrounded by in the shelters, it's an isolated journey and the phrase, "Man without a country" comes to mind for me. The reasons we end up homeless are daunting. Racking us with guilt and worry we wrestle with our major fail while at the same time trying to salvage what tattered shreds of dignity we may have left. Once we accept our homeless fate and begin to asses what our chances are in regaining the safe haven of having our own home again we get smacked upside the head with the reality of just how impotent are economy really is. As excruciatingly cruel as it feels, we end up being the people that society doesn't want to see, talk about or even know about.

 Most folks view the homeless as dirty, stinky drunks and druggies with no more ambition than to stand outside businesses bugging the working class for their spare change.  Truth is that the majority of the clean and sober homeless have cars and even jobs. People look stunned, their mouths dropping open like cod fish when I tell them I'm homeless. They can't seem to grasp how something like that could happen to someone as intelligent and "together" as me. They struggle with words of comfort to offer and usually end up saying all the wrong things. Then they come up missing in my life.

 "Out of sight, out of mind", I guess.

I have another blog that is dedicated to the plight of the homeless, (Project Homeless), so I won't be sharing a lot about my homelessness here, but it does shadow my days, casting a heaviness over me that sucks the life out of my writing muse making it difficult to be lighthearted or even funny. I do have times at the shelter that are quite comical in those awkward ironic ways that life can be.

I had one gal at the shelter accuse me of being "bossy".

BOSSY? ME? No way,.......

I took offense to her assessment of me but then another woman piped up in my defense, (I guess), and said I wasn't bossy as much as I'm more of a "Mother Hen".

I have to admit, she's right, I am.

Maybe it's because I raised 5 kids or that I just have a need to know everything that's happening around me but I am the first one to remind the gals at the shelter to have their beds made before noon or that there's no TV allowed till after 4pm but I'm also the first one to ask how things are going, offering up pep talks and genuine hugs when they're feeling down.

Just like everything else that's happened in my life I always take to it with an exploring eye - I study this experience of my homelessness like Jacques Cousteau might study a pod of humpback whale in migration. I take mental notes, pondering the reasons that be, questioning the theories and then study the options. 

Being homeless is certainly not the worst thing that's taken place in my life but it is the most exasperating in that once you're homeless there are no easy ways out, no low road to get to the high road and not too many resources to help you build a foundation of faith and security.

 A slippery slope for sure.

      

Don't eat that snow! (You don't know where it's been)

Snow In Seattle!

It's always big news when the white stuff finds Seattle. We never know if it will even get snow every year and never know when to expect it if we do. We've been dumped on in November and some years as late as February and then there have been years no snow fell at all. 

 The flakes started coming down yesterday morning, just little ones that weren't sticking around. Then at mid-day they decided to stick around and we have a good couple inches this morning. For those that battle feet high piles of snow in other states a couple inches is no big deal, but here it's major news. The main reason it is such big news is that no one in the Seattle really knows hows to drive in the snow. Oh, there are plenty a folks that like to think they do, but they don't. Another reason Seattle has to shut down whenever it snows is that from the beginning of time, Seattle has only owned one snow plow, (think they might have three now), and no one could figure out out how to use it.

Of course I'm kidding, lol, but it is true that we didn't have as many snow plows here that were needed and after a couple of surprise snowfalls that left Seattle totally immobilized, they beefed up the plow fleet. But driving in the snow is real tricky here because of the many, many steep hills. Even expert snow navigators from all those heavy snow laden states come here and can't make their way to the market without landing in a ditch. And we have wet snow too - it's like dumping a tanker truck load of Slurpee's into the roads which leaves no traction at all - ever experienced a Slurpee stop? Kids love 'em cause it's a lot like riding in a bumper car - wheeee!

Snow Happy!

Everyone loves the snow here and most want a lot more than we get!

They're saying that tonight is the night we get DUMPED on!The news is yakking about nothing else and everyone is flocking to the store for supplies. As far as I'm concerned, snow is dandy as long as I don't have to drive in it - and that includes, frozen slush, black ice, regular ice and ANY hill clear, covered or otherwise.

When I was a kid a snow was at the top of the list when it came to that ""Kid Excitement Meter" - especially the first snow of the season! It was right up there with opening the first gift at Christmas, "Snow Days", (not having to go to school), was always an occasion to Happy Dance!

We lived on a hill when I was a kid which meant there were TWO places to go sledding. One was very steep, but on the short side, (which makes a BIG difference on your way back up toting a sled or an inner tube), and then the other was a lot less steep and much longer - my friends and I stuck to the shorter, steep hill, thrillseekers yet lazy.

 We'd be there for hours, only taking quick hot chocolate breaks and then trudging our way back to the crest of the hill. Some of my friends would go in for hot chocolate never to be seen again. Their mother's would get a hold of them, ripping their rubber boots, mittens and soaked snow clothes off before they even knew what hit 'em. They'd perch themselves in their living room windows, cozy in their flannels and bunny slippers, looking quite disgruntled and miserable. Of course we'd wave at them and call for them to come back out. They'd shake their heads or, much to the dismay of their mother, open a window or come out on the front porch to holler at us that their mom's wouldn't let them. We'd laugh, toss a few snowballs at 'em and then tease them with our over-dramatic antics in the snow.

When it was over, it was over.

Limping on feet I wasn't sure were even there, wiping my red, very runny nose with soaked, frozen mittens and trailing behind me my worn out sled I would finally go home, whipped, exhausted, frozen to the core, but oh, so satisfied. I never lasted long after getting into dry clothes and usually drinking down a cup of chicken noodle or cream of tomato soup. We always had the fireplace raging on those snowy days and nights and that's where I'd collapse and fall into a deep sleep, never remember my dad carrying me off to bed. 

Of course there was nothing worse than to wake up the next morning and find that all that precious snow had been transformed into boring old rain sometimie in the night. Snowmen, which stood so straight and alert would be hunched over, tired and oh, so dingy. But in Seattle, that's how it goes - the rain owns this city and when it comes to snow, ya gotta act fast and get out there as soon as the first flake falls. 

We'll see what tonight brings -

wouldn't be the first time we braced ourselves for the "Snow of ALL Snows" only to find a dusting on the front porch. Either way, I'm stocked up on hot chocolate. 

Girl, Interrupted

Just when,......

you think you're finally on your way, finally getting there, life steps in, shoves you to the side and the next thing you know, life as you know it is nothing more than a three-ring side show with YOU hanging by that proverbial thread.

Pass the brownies please,....thank you very much!

Not long ago I saw, for the first time, the movie, Girl, Interrupted, starring Winona Ryder, Angelina Jolie, Whoopi Goldberg and the late Brittany Murphy.

 GREAT film and if you haven't seen it, you should check it out. It takes place in the 60's and Winona plays Susanna Kayson, who wrote the story, (true account), of her 18 month stay in a mental hospital. Once there she meets other young women with all kinds of "issues" and, well, let's just say the problems that her fellow patients face is a big eye opener for Ms. Kayson, especially when she allows herself to get sucked into the whacked world of Lisa Rowe, (Angelina Jolie).

I could really relate to Winona's character, Susanna, but then I have found that I can relate to just about every character Winona plays in all her movies so maybe I just connect with Winona herself somehow. And I actually knew a girl exactly like Lisa Rowe and found myself tangled up in her mental illness making choices that can only be termed as (pretty darn), "bad". It was a time in my life, (in the 70's), that my seemingly uneventful, normal world was exposed to an unbalanced side of living that changed my naive perspective. Lessons such as these are good - they show us that everything doesn't fit together like a pretty picture puzzle.

Sometimes the pieces, no matter how hard you try to shove them together, just don't/won't fit. 

Pardon Me

So, just like Winona's character, Susanna, who's life gets so rudely interrupted with a heavy dose of reality, so has mine. My 20's was interrupted with being stalked and abused, (for ten long years). 2006 found my life devastatingly interrupted with the sudden death of my Mother, divorce after 11 years of marriage and the unexpected suicide of my son - all happening in a 5 month span. And now, well, my life is interrupted with joblessness, homelessness and being downright penniless. "Interrupted" is a gross understatement when it comes to how my life has been, but whatever way ya look at it, these events totally disengaged me from the plans I set forth in my life.

"Interrupted" is such an innocent and polite term, way too innocent and polite to describe the disruption and carnage that my life has been faced with but out of all that rubble some good has been delivered.

 But then I guess it's all in how you look at it. There are times I want to just lay down and die, to give up, to give in and let the interruptions be the demise of me and all my silly dreams. Not easy being 55 years old and having to accept that not only are my bright and shiny life-long dreams, born when I was just a young girl, totally interrupted, they were totally and devastatingly annihilated, never to be fulfilled or seen again...ever.

Excuse Me

One thing I've learned through all the interruptions in my life is that eventhough I ended up on more detours than I would have ever imagined, there were some divine paths presented to me that I'm actually grateful for. The friends I've made, the people I've met have all gifted me with better insight, a new perspective and comfort in order to let go and embrace hope once more.

I don't know how I'm going to fare once I find my way to other side of my life's most recent interruption, but I do know that Jesus is strong by my side, that my Father God will never forsake me and no matter where I end up, it will be where He wants me to be. 

Just like it is when someone barges in and so rudely interrupts what we're doing, sometimes we just have to be still, wait and when the time is right, step boldly back out into the Light and follow the path, whether it be old, new or totally bizarre, making no sense at all.

This is OUR journey, our stepping stones and the worst thing we can ever do is allow ourselves to be totally derailed.

 Yeah,...Girl, interrupted,.... just be sure to save me some brownies!  

Make It Work!

What Were They Thinking?

I'm a HUGE Project Runway fan and words cannot express the deep disappointment I got from this season's competition, (season 9). I have been an avid fan of the show from the time it aired it's first episode and being that I'm also a designer myself, I never missed an episode. Project Runway served up opportunity for aspiring designers to enter into the world of fashion in a way that had never been done before. I was inspired!

I guess like a lot of TV shows out there, (and after moving from the Bravo network to Lifetime), they lost the sparkle and the innovation. For me, Season 9 proved to be nothing more than an amateurish romp of drama mixed in with the usual tired exploitation of reality, selling off the shows integrity in favor of ratings.

And just in case anyone is wondering, the photo I added up at the top is NOT a design that came down the runway on the show. It's just a weird design I found on the net and thought it suited my subject matter this morning. This isn't a blog about my disappointment in Project Runway, (even though I started off with that).

 It's about making it work.

I am presently reading a book written by Project Runway's mentor to the designers, Tim Gunn. It's titled "Gunn's Golden Rules - Life's Little Lessons For Making It Work", which "Make It Work" is Tim's catch phrase for all the designers when they find themselves struggling in the competition on the show.

 Tim Gunn is by far the show's most valuable treasure. I admire him greatly and am absolutely loving his book. It's not all about Project Runway, but of course he has a few stories to share from his experiences there. The book is about life and his advice in how to make it work is a joy to read. He writes about how "being nice" and having manners is the key to success when it comes to interacting with people and I totally, totally agree!

Like my mother used to say, "You get a lot more flies with honey than vinegar". Plus being nice and having manners, which so many people don't have these days, gives you that step up to the high road, which believe you me, is a much better level to be at in this selfish and rude day and age.

I can't praise Tim's book enough and suggest you find yourself a copy -

you'll be glad you did!

Work It!

I was fortunate that my parents taught me (very), good manners and in turn I passed those lessons onto my children. They absolutely HATED writing thank you notes and exercising good manners at the dinner table but in the long run, it served them well, (just as my parent's lessons in good manners served me).

When I was in elementary school we had to learn good Citizenship - it was part of the curriculum, (along with good Penmanship), but I don't think they focus on being a good citizen anymore in the school, which I think is a crying shame! Kids are so rude and selfish nowadays and of course, so are their parents. It alarms me to think how this world will be when good manners becomes totally extinct. As far as I see it, we are dangerously close to that happening and this world will be one cold and cruel place.

Recently my 8 year old granddaughter received an award at her school, (a Christian school), for being "Respectful To Others". It was during an assembly she received this award and when they called her name to go up to the stage and get her award, (certificate), I had to fight back the tears. Just like my parents instilled in me the importance of respecting others and I instilled into my children, my granddaughter's parents have done the same. As far as I see it, good manners are born from the ability to respect others.  For some reason folks think you have to like all the people you respect. Not true. I mean after all, I respect a ton of people I don't even know and there are quite a few people that I don't like at all, (personality wise), that I respect them for other reasons. 

I have found that having a general respect for all people serves me very well. I respect their space, their right to an opinion and their place in society. A homeless man that opens the door for me at the grocery store deserves a pleasant smile and a "thank you" just as much as anyone else. Ironic thing is, the homeless guy is more likely to open my door than some high paid executive sporting an Italian suit that just exited his Porche.

Poop Scoop

I've worked in retail off and on over the years and anyone who works retail knows just how (very) rude our society can be, (and is).

 One day I was ringing up a guy that was at the check out with his cell phone attached to his ear. When I was done ringing him up I asked him the usual - "Is this cash or charge?". The man actually had the gal to shush me and then rudely snipe at me, "Can't you see I'm talking?".

I wanted to jerk that cell phone right out of his hand and toss it across the store!

I was NOTHING in his eyes, holding no value in his selfish little world. All that mattered to him was his own agenda and everyone else was nothing more than an irritant. It's so sad to me that we have become such a selfish society. We hoard and we hide. We don't want to know our neighbors and we certainly don't want to share.

Having good manners IS sharing.

It's sharing of ourselves, our space and of our time. Good manners is a door we open to others of which we offer respect. As I see it, having good manners is "making it work", keeping the cogs of life well oiled and maintenanced. Good manners opens doors and I don't mean that literally, I mean that it opens doors to the kind of goodness that comes back to us making our life better, more promising and even peaceful. 

I don't know about you, but when I treat others with respect and use my good manners I feel GOOD about myself and my reasons for living. Sure I have those days I'd like to go around and be a Poop Head to everyone and there have been a few times that I have stomped through life with a scowl on my face but ya know, it only made me feel worse about myself and whatever crap I was going through. The Poop Heads in life have nothing more to offer than,..well...poop and we all step in it and we all resent it.

There are laws out there set that people MUST poop scoop after their dogs.

Me thinks we need a law against poop heads crapping all over us!!

THANK YOU!

One Thing Leads To Another

Moving Is Such A Drag

As soon as I was really getting into some "serious" blogging, or at least devoting some serious time to it, I lose my Internet connection. Of course writing doesn't hinge to having the Internet available and being I don't think anyone (at all), is following my blog right now, it really was no big deal. But I did think about it often and made some notes on changes and ideas.

And yep, I moved (again). Since October of 2010 I have moved four times. 

As a matter of fact, I've been living out of boxes and moving around like a turtle with everything I own on my back for the past 5 years.

I won't go into all the reasons why but I never get used to it and some day I WILL have a place where all the boxes are tossed out, my belongings have a permanent place and I'll be able to call it "Home" (and believe it).

The image above is quite fitting for how I feel about ever having a cozy little home of my own - it's not a real possibility, just a cartoon of a dream.

I'm less than a month away from being 55 years old and I now live in the basement, (rent a room), of a so-so house with some people my son found online. Being I'm presently penniless, (looking for a job), I am very grateful to have that proverbial roof over my head and the people are decent and nice, but this is NOT where I envisioned myself at this age.

I feel like "LOSER" is scribbled across my forehead and there are days I feel like my life is over - nothing better will come of this uneven and bleak path I'm on.

Yes, that's the "defeatist" in me I know I need to think more positive and look on the "bright side" (not so easy to do). Not the optimistic attitude that most would expect from a Jesus Freak like me. I definitely cling to Jesus that's for sure but it doesn't mean that the pitfalls and sucker punches that are of the world don't get me down - they most certainly do!

Of The World

God tells us as Christians we are NOT to be "of the world". Yes, we must administer to the world, but He is quite clear to instruct us to steer (very) clear of being part of what takes place and is exchanged out there. The materialistic gluttony is hard to ignore - it's slammed in our faces at every turn. For most people they truly believe that ALL of their happiness hinges on the things they posses.  And we've all heard it, "Money doesn't buy happiness", a cliche of a saying that most people scoff at while idolizing the almighty dollar. The thing is,...money does buy COMFORT and we all want to be comfortable. And that is what I have to remind myself of - comfort is comfort, such as warmth, a full belly, shoes with no holes and a bed to sleep. And God WILL provide us what we need and like the old Rolling Stones has been sayin for years - "not what ya want".

And yes, there is a difference.

I titled this blog "One Thing Leads To Another" because well,..it does!

Even though I have lost ALL material things that I've ever owned, (including every penny) and I've even lost a son, I was led to a place of better understanding and humble gratitude. A lot of people can't even conceive going thru the loss that I have and they don't understand how I can be grateful for having nothing. Well, when it comes from God it's worth more than ANYTHING that money can buy. Of course I'm not grateful for the death of my son, that would be insane, But I am grateful for our Father and my beloved Jesus, (my Constant Companion and Gentle Healer), for getting me through the pain, (which never goes away). 

When Jesus instructed us to "pick up your cross and follow me", he never claimed it would be a cake walk. And yep, a cake walk it is NOT!!

Rain, My Refuge

I've lived in Seattle (Washington), all my life and that means I've been here 50+ years.

Needless to say I've seen a lot of changes, some good, some not-so-good.
Our traffic bites and I avoid driving on the freeway as much as possible. The "rush hour" starts around 2pm and you can count on bumper to bumper, gridlocked traffic running a good 100 miles between Olympia, (south of Seattle), to Mount Vernon, (north of Seattle) till almost 7pm. Fun Fun.

Problem is that most people who work in Seattle can't afford to live there so they move out to areas they can afford and do the grueling commute thing all week.
I guess when they designed the freeways out here they never dreamed the amount of traffic that would be utilizing them - too many vehicles and not enough freeway.


Of course the first thing people ask me when they find out I live in Seattle or that I'm asked from folks who just move to Seattle, is if it rains as much as they've heard it does.
YES! It sure does and I LOVE it!!!

Of course the traffic is even worse when it rains, which is often enough that rush hour can only be described as "The Commute From Hell".

Do you know how to tell the locals from the tourists in Seattle?

It's quite easy -

the visitors, tourists and folks that just moved to Seattle are the ones walking around with umbrellas.

Us locals learned a loooooong time ago that umbrellas are a total waste of time in the kind of rain we have - especially when a wind comes up, (which is quite often).

My youngest daughter LOVED umbrellas when she was little and I can't even count how many she had but do know that she didn't have any of them very long. They were always left behind somewhere in her busy day, never to be seen again. My daughter is 24 now and umbrellas fell to the wayside a long time ago for her. Like the rest of the Seattle locals, she makes sure she dons a warm jacket/coat with a hood when going out in the rain.

Rain = Depression

Some Seattleites get depressed when it rains and that's because it can rain day after day after day.

I don't mind if it rains every day and as a matter of fact, I prefer it. The rain gives me an odd sense of security, I just love it.

In 2007 I accepted a job at Yosemite National Park in California.

I arrived May 5th and didn't see a drop of rain until November and when it arrived, I did my Happy Dance! I spent a little over three years in the Yosemite area where it feels like summer from Easter to Thanksgiving - way too much sunshine for me!!

I'm not a sun worshiper.

As a matter of fact when the temps rise above 75 degrees I want to hibernate like a bear in the winder and not find my way out until the cool, brisk fall weather creeps in.

California was a struggle for me being in all that sunshine. When I finally got back to Seattle, (which I came back in October 2010), I would sit outside whenever it rained and thank God for not only leading me back to my hometown/city where I am so rooted, but for the beautiful symphony nature presents here - the sound of rain is my favorite music!

You will be secure, because there is hope;

 you will look about you and take your rest in safety. 

You will lie down, with no one to make you afraid,

and many will court your favor.

~Job 11:18-19

Third Cake's A Charm

Cont from previous post...

It wasn't my intention to write so much about cake but when you think about it,

cake is pretty darned important!

We serve up cake for just about everything we celebrate.

And now cupcakes are all the rage and dessert chefs from all over the world are flocking like birds of prey to swoop in on the battle waging against the odds to claim victory

in the fight to reign as Queen or King of Cupcake Kingdom!

I think our love affair with cake has everything to do with nostalgia and holding on tight

to those sacred passeges in life that hinge us to all we hold most dear -

in other words loving and being loved.

Then too, nothing tastes as wonderful as a good, moist cake -

not in my book anyway.

So yes, cake is important to me and when my second marriage came about 8 years after my first, my fiance and I wanted a big wedding with all the trimmings.

It was a homemade wedding venue

but the ceremony took place a quaint little church and then

a lively reception followed at a local banquet hall.

My future husband had a HUGE family -

lots of siblings and one of his sisters, who was known for creating tasty,lovely cakes offered to do ours as a wedding gift.

Of course we accepted the generous gift!

 She wanted to make 4 tiers and place them at different levels on the cake table. That was fine with us, all I wanted was 2 tiers to be chocolate,

 my fave and the other 2 white cake, my fiance's favorite.

The frosting would be a Bavarian cream - Y-U-M!

Having a homemade wedding is NOT an easy task -

not when you have all kinds of family members crawling out of the woodwork

to offer their opinion. I also found out that when you decide to do a big wedding

 and reception, all kinds of family and friends volunteer to do stuff.

But when the time comes, they're no where to be found.

So much for good intentions I guess...

My parents were paying for the reception and my fiance and I paid for the ceremony.

It was a generous gesture on my parent's part, (they adored my soon-to-be-hubby),

and for the most part my Mom and Dad steered clear of forcing their opinions on me, happy to just sign the checks - what a blessing they were!

It was my fiance's family that felt they had a right to change plans, feeling "their way" was the better way and my fiance did little to stop it and always found a way

 to hide out when tempers flared and opinions clashed.

By the time our June wedding day arrived, both my fiance and I

were more than ready  to have it all be over with.

 Don't get me wrong, we were still excited about our special day,

 we were just totally fed up with all the WORK it was to put it all together.

I won't go into great detail about all the things that didn't go quite as we'd planned

 as this is about the cake, but I will offer up a few sound words of advice -

just in case you or someone you love is in the midst of planning a wedding.

DO NOT

wear a pair of fancy Victorian lace boots down the isle unless you have

 taken the time  to wear them in and I mean REALLY wear them in -

especially if you're a gal like me and never wear heels in the real world.

The whole time I stood up at the alter getting married to the man of my dreams

 the only thing I could think about is how bad my poor feet hurt!

DO NOT

tell the cherub-faced, rosey-cheeked, sweet little old lady

 that plays the piano  at church service every Sunday to

 "Go ahead, play whatever you like, I'm sure whatever you choose will be just fine!"

Our sweet little church lady chose 2 of the most slow moving, GRIM

pieces of piano music I have ever heard and the worst part is

 they were also VERY long!

It was like getting married to two of the longest funeral marches that

were ever composed - CHOOSE the music yourself!

DO NOT

(And now we get to the cake part)

accept the generous offer from a family member to make your wedding cake-

not unless you don't care if it shows up at your wedding totally different

 than what you asked for - yep, that's what happened to me.

It took me awhile to notice at the reception that our wedding cake didn't

look the way we had planned, but she had it set up at the cake table very nicely.

I placed an ivy leaden wicker wall behind the cake table with the ivy

mixed with peach hued and white roses.

On the cake table more ivy was wrapped around the cake pillars and lit candles accented along with rose petals scattered here and there.

 Everyone gushed about how beautiful it was and it was!

Finally it was time to cut the cake and my new husband and I went over

and did the traditional cutting of the cake and no, we didn't assault each other with it.

It was one of the white tiers that we cut into first.

Always keep in mind -

no matter how swept up in the moment a bride can be she is still sharp as a tack

 when it comes to the most important details of her wedding, (no matter how small).

First thing I noticed as we cut into the cake is that it was NOT iced with Bavarian Cream icing, it was boring old, too-sweet butter cream icing AND the chocolate mousse filling was missing, (there was no filling at all)!

Whatever disappointment I was feeling I shoved aside,

 "Don't sweat the small stuff", I told myself and went along with the happy flow

 of the reception, enjoying all the traditions that take their place one after another - toasting, our first dance, tossing of the garter and bouquet and then making the rounds,

smiling brightly and talking to all of the over 300 folks that came to our wedding.

Finally, when things settled into some free time for us I decided I wanted

a piece of our chocolate wedding cake!

My Maid-of-Honor joined me at the cake table and with giddy eagerness

 I cut into one of the untouched tiers - it was white cake.

Okay, well...off to tier number three!

I sliced into it and smiled wide to see that it wasn't the white cake

 and plopped a big slice onto a cake plate for me and then one for my Maid-Of-Honor.

I guess were so taken with the happy energy in the room we didn't really look

that close to the slices of cake on our plates.

 In unison we stuffed our forks full of the sweet goodness into our mouths.

When your mouth is expecting one thing

and ends up being filled with something else, it WILL rebel and has an uncanny way of showing it's shock and disappointment by contorting our faces into a hideous grimace. 

My Maid-Of-Honor's faced twisted into horror mirroring the same look on my face.

"What IS that?!", she asked, smacking her lips in disgust

 looking closely at the reddish, brownish piece of cake on her plate.

I swallowed the foul tasting concoction and spied the piece on my plate.

"I dunno", I choked, "I think it's some kind of spice cake".

Both of us ditched our cake plates and went over to the fourth, (and last), cake tier.

"That was disgusting!", my Maid-Of-Honor whispered to me as slid the cake knife

 into the fourth tier. I didn't have to put a slice on a plate to see that the fourth tier

 was the same nasty reddish, brownish spice cake that we'd just experienced.

My heart fell.

Yes, it's a small thing I guess, but I ASKED for chocolate cake!

WHY DIDN'T SHE MAKE ME MY CHOCOLATE CAKE?!!!

I didn't stick around to talk to my Maid-of-Honor about it.

I was quick to ditch that fourth tier and through the crowd of guests I zig-zagged

and searched high and low until I found my brand new sister-in-law.

I wasted no words.

"Where is my chocolate cake?"

She looked at me stunned.

 I'm sure she was expecting me to offer up a mouth full of praise for her creation,

 not me glaring at her demanding my chocolate cake!

She opened her mouth and stammered a bit, her eyes fluttering as a red flush ran slowly over her face. Finally some words came out of her mouth, "Ummm,..well,..I..uh..I..uh..didn't make chocolate."

"WHY NOT!!!", I burst out loudly,

which got the attention of my husband's mother, bringing her quickly 

into the "cake discussion" in defense of her daughter's choice to rob me

 of my sacred chocolate wedding cake -

 I was NOT a Happy Camper!

As bad as it could have gotten, it didn't and thank God for that.

I don't recall every detail of what took place after confronting my sister-in-law,

 but it was my new husband that came over and basically saved his sister from my wrath.

The brownish, reddish mess turned out to be carrot cake, not spice cake.

I happen to like carrot cake, but this was the absolute worst carrot cake I've ever had the displeasure of having in my mouth.

I never found out WHY she decided to scrap my chocolate cake in favor of the hideous carrot cake - that's just how his family is and it set an unfortunate pattern of how life would be for me being married into such a controlling family.

I can still see as though it was yesterday,

my new husband praising his sister in regard to the cake at the same time devouring

 three slices of (his white cake).

With every bite he took I felt totally robbed and dismissed,

(a feeling that I would experience over and over while married to this man)

We ended up divorced 10 years and one month later.

It was a good marriage but we couldn't survive his family's constant intrusion.

We had one son together and remain on friendly enough terms.

It's kinda ironic how on our wedding day he got what he wanted, the white cake,

and in a sense, he "got his cake and ate it too".

The same goes for now,

five years after our divorce, he's remarried and is still

"Having his cake and eating it too".

I haven't been with anyone since my ex-husband.

I don't think it's "in the cards" for me and I'll most likely live out

 the rest of my life without a man next to me.

I have some regrets towards my failed marriage, but I am happy that my ex

is happily married and that he "has his cake".

Maybe it was an omen of some kind -

I never got the chocolate cake I wanted in either of my 2 weddings

and both marriages failed.

Guess if I ever get married again and my chocolate cake actually arrives

as ordered it will be a sign that "Third cakes a charm!"