Rebekah, a pastry chef, started my birthday cake on the day before my birthday.
She baked a chocolate cake with ganache and strawberries dipped in dark chocolate with white chocolate drizzles, which I posted on social media.
All of this was homemade, put together on her work break and after she had clocked out for the day.
I had finally signed off the computer and wandered downstairs and into the kitchen to look for food and found the strawberries, just chilling in the refrigerator.
Now, I only had two candles on the cake, a six and a zero, because Rebekah was afraid that lighting sixty individual candles on the cake would melt the ganache.
Hey, two candles were easier on an old person's asthmatic lungs, too.
Yes, I did blow them out. Both of them.
And then just four of us ate the entire cake in under three days.
Rebekah did all of this in stages: first the strawberries and then the cake and ganache.
It set up in the refrigerator overnight. On my birthday (July 15, in case anyone wants to send me a gift next year), she placed the strawberries on top; we sang "Happy Birthday" and we ate it all in two days.
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