Lamb-Shaped-Cake, not Cake-Shaped-Lamb

The roaring leaf-blower outside is drowning out my tenuous thoughts, yet I shall persevere.  I went to church on Easter, which was interesting because I haven’t steadily attended church services since October.  It was good to reconnect with some people.  Several folks asked how I was doing, a few made jokes, most probably didn’t take note of my presence.  Which was fine, the potluck lunch had tiny brownies and soft cookies which provided all the comfort I needed.

Ten of us met at my aunt’s house for dinner.  My uncle made a bit of a mess of the lamb-cake decorating; the red ribbon around its neck looked more like a slit throat dripping glittery frosting.  He eventually had enough of everyone’s negative comments, so I took over.  I’m no pastry chef, so the result may have been an Easter miracle.  A few bottles of wine, some hurt feelings, and lots of laughter later, we boxed up the lamb’s severed head and went on our way.

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Lamb-Shaped-Cake, not Cake-Shaped-Lamb

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