My Birthday Celebration was... cool!

My oldest and dearest friend... and by oldest I refer not to her age, as she is considerably younger than me... but, instead, to the longevity of our friendship, as it has surpassed the quarter century mark (we met in nursery school... wink wink)... treated me to the best and happiest and funnest birthday celebration, that I could ever imagine.

We met for lunch a couple of Saturdays ago, at our favorite place to meet... an upscale Chinese restaurant called PF Chang’s. Should you ever find yourself in H-Town, you simply MUST drop in! Plan to get there early to get a good table, and enjoy the lettuce wraps, spicy chicken and mango iced tea! But I digress...

My friend lives much further away, but in her usual style (and mine...), she was waiting for me in our favorite booth, gift tucked discreetly to the side (as she is sensitive to the fact that I’m not comfortable with attention), and a cake from her local, specialty (and heavenly) bakery, in a plain white box on the table. I saw the label right away and almost suggested that we skip lunch... however, the restaurant food is a real treat, and our booth, quite in demand any day, let alone a Saturday lunch! So, we ordered!

As we were waiting on our food, my friend began to give me instructions (as she often does... a trait that I find lovable and very endearing) on how to preserve the cake so that I might enjoy the last bite as much as the first. It HAS to be refrigerated, she said... it can’t be allowed to get hot (in the car, or otherwise), or the icing will melt and slide off the cake.

Hmmmm... I’m thinking, as I know we have plans to go “messing around” (read shopping) immediately after our meal. I’m deep into my consideration of the various options... (1) run the cake to my house, about 8 miles away, or (2) deposit it in the frige at my office, about ½ mile away... along with a note that reads something similar to... “Eat this and die!”... when suddenly I realize that she’s chuckling, and quite ahead of me in solving the dilemma.

And she begins to tell me the story of the cake.

First, however, I must say that we talked on the phone on the evening of my actual birthday (a few days prior) and she mentioned that she had gone by this bakery to get cookies for a young man who lives in her neighborhood and who helps her husband, in his business and her, around their house. He had his wisdom teeth out that day, and she knew, even if he wasn’t well enough to eat... he would enjoy letting those cookies melt in his mouth (and they would... I’ve had them!). In turn, I began to tell her a story of another friend of mine that lives in that area, who had been fretting over where to get a cake for her anniversary party. Every time she brought it up, I, quietly to subliminally, spoke the name of the bakery. This friend, ultimately, received the message, checked the website, fell in love and ordered a cake.

I, on the other hand, became increasingly plagued with concern, as I remembered the sage advice (or rather, rules to live by) delivered somewhat sternly and quite resolutely, by my (late) Mother: “Never recommend a doctor or a hairstylist.”, meaning to infer that you would, surely, lose a friend either way... through death or bad hair. And I began to convince myself that Mom, most certainly, meant to infer other services, including bakeries, into that list... as Mama was a wise woman of few words, who counted on the intuitive senses of others to understand exactly what she meant and why.

In spite of my deviation from the rule... the cake turned out wonderfully and on time, for my friend’s anniversary party. There was not a happier soul in attendance, than was I, when I first laid eyes on the cake... finely decorated and even more beautiful than the photograph implied. Better than the Tiffany box design, was the taste, texture and freshness of the cake... heavenly, and without so much as a crumb.

It seems that I digress... again. Irregardless, I relate the story and think nothing more of it... And that’s the way my (oldest and dearest) friend is. She reminds me of my (late) grandmothers in that way. You mention something once, in passing, and she files it away and surprises you later. I am TRULY blessed to have such a friend, yea sister.

So... she’s chuckling. And she tells me the story of the cake.

It seems that, after our conversation, she decides she’s going to go by and pick up a birthday cake for me. And, on Friday afternoon, after work, she stops in the bakery and, blowing past the Cinderella, Snow White and pink rose cakes, and breifly considering the ‘dump truck’ cake, she selects a festively decorated (yet fashionably understated) cake.
As they are preparing the package, she asks about the “travelability” of the cake, and the cake lady informs her of the details that she just relayed to me.

So, she leaves the bakery, cake carefully packaged and securely in hand... thinking, I’ll put ice in a cooler and place a barrier between the ice and the box... and all will be good.

Until she gets home and finds that the box won’t fit in any of the coolers that she owns... with the exception of the “fishing” cooler that her husband owns, which fits perfectly in the bed of a Chevy truck and the backseat of a Hummer, but would have to be strapped (not a chance in hell!) to the top of her sporty Cadillac!

In talking to a neighbor (and in actuality, to the mother of the young man sans wisdom teeth), she mentions that she is about to go out and buy a cooler, into which she can fit the cake box. The neighbor insists that she comes by, on her way out, to check to see if any of her coolers will accommodate the cake. My friend does, and finds a perfect fit.

While there, she relates the cake lady’s instructions, and states her plan for the cooler. Her neighbor disagrees, and directs, emphatically, “what you need to do is to buy some dry ice”... no moisture problem, no barrier, it will last much longer, and you can purchase it at the local grocery store. Excellent idea, my friend agrees... and she goes home, because she knows that her husband is anxiously awaiting her return so that they can go out for dinner.

After dinner, she instructs her (sweetheart... and I mean that!) husband to run by the grocery store and let her run in to get some dry ice. They, neither, have any previous experience with dry ice.

At this point in the story, I become almost incapacitated with laughter... as I am recalling my own first experience with the mysterious substance.

It was the occasion of an annual Halloween day’s preparation for the party that another friend and I always throw... for the children of our friends... yeah, that’s right... that’s the ticket... for the children of our friends, not for ourselves, oh no... the party is for the children (wink wink). We had worked for days... yea weeks, as at that time, we lived in (shared wall) townhouses. And we were in the final crunch, as it was about 3pm on the “day of”... And I said, “OK, Dude, what can I do, and how can we best utilize our time?”

As we had already “blown” the outdoor speakers... in the process of entertaining ourselves while working... Dude had bought new speakers, but she wanted to replace the speaker wires with something more effective and “suitable”. So, she proposed... we need two things: (1) “Monster” cable and (2) dry ice for our cauldrons. No problem, I said... rather anxious to retreat from the heat and humidity of hanging lights and stringing cobwebs (as I had already modeled, twisted and reclining, for the chalk outline)... and off I went to retrieve the final touches.

First, I went to the Audio/Visual/Home Theatre store a few blocks away... to purchase the “Monster”. Immediately upon entering, I was asked how I might be helped. I stated my purpose and with efficiency, I was delivered a spool and escorted to “checkout”. It was a small spool, but ample to deliver sound from the source to two speakers. And I was pleased with how easy this task had been to accomplish.

I must admit, at this point, I have never been interested in speakers and wattage and wiring and all of that stuff. I figure... my ears are only so good, beyond everyday sound, I’m not sure how much more I can hear. And while I am, in most instances, a rule follower and instruction reader, I absolutely despise the directions to my home theatre system and other digital components. For me, it is a deterrent to even considering moving... when I think of trying to figure that out again.

Digression acknowledged, once again... the salesman scans the spool of cable, and announces... it’s on sale, that will be $45. And I am like... “WHAT??????!” I know I must have heard him wrong. But, as luck would have it, my generic every day ordinary oratory senses heard correctly... $45. I might balk, but I’m so tired that I think... if this is what we need, then sobeit. On to the grocery store for dry ice.

Locating the chest “freezer” at the grocery store, I grab three “chunks” of dry ice and make my way to the checkout line. I note that the packages are quite heavy, but I have no particular concerns, as regular ice is quite heavy, too. That is... no concerns until the packages are scanned... and the total is announced... (member price)... $27! Ohmygosh... who, possibly, would have thought... but we need them for the cauldrons, so I pay and leave, very tentively, carefully guarding my valuable purchase. I’m starting to figure out why Dude was willing to stay behind in the heat...

In spite of continual digressions, I return to the birthday story...

My friend asks politely where the dry ice is located and the clerk points. She scurries over and is about to pick up a package barehanded when a checker shreaks and stops her in her tracks. She instructs him that she would like a certain three packages and he carefully bundles them for her. At checkout, she finds out that the first two packages scan at over $16! And she makes a quick decision that, certainly, two will keep the cake cool for a few hours!

Returning to the truck, her husband is convinced that she has lost her mind for paying that kind of money for ice of ANY kind! They’ve been married for 21 years, though, and I’m relatively certain that he knows better than to argue with her. :-)

By the time they get home, the packages have formed a heavy frost, and as they are ready to go to bed, my friend decides to deposit the ice in the freezer. Oops, only room for one package in the freezer, the other will have to go in the refrigerator. (At this point, I am, literally, snorting).

My friend awakes early the next morning to prepare and make her trip to meet me. She retrieved the first package from the freezer and notices that it is quite a bit smaller than it was the night before, but the frost no longer conceals its wrapper. In large print, she reads, “DO NOT PLACE IN REFRIGERATED CONTAINER”. Oh, she thinks, the refrigeration must make the package shrink, but still... it seems to be cold enough to keep the cake cool.

Then, she opens the (monster Sub-Zero) refrigerator... to find a THICK layer of frost over everything inside! She almost calls her husband to tell him that there’s something wrong with the frige, until she remembers... “DO NOT PLACE IN REFRIGERATED CONTAINER”. Instead, she quickly loads the cooler, grabs the birthday package and runs out the door.

I’m happy to report that the cake was in fine condition and extraordinarily yummy. We each ate a small slice after our tasty meal. Then, we were off to re-load the cooler and set our for an afternoon’s adventure. She insisted, too, that as the birthday girl, I take the leftovers from our lunch. I had reservations, as I was afraid the food would ruin before I made it home, but I didn’t want to argue. After carefully replacing the cake box in the cooler, she began to close the trunk, when I suddenly thought... hey! Will the cartons of Chinese food fit in that cooler??? (Sometimes, I am just TOO smart!).

We spent a wonderful afternoon (and I do mean an entire afternoon) in Cost Plus World Market. She was a CPWM virgin, until that afternoon, and we had a blast, as she carefully studied each and every item... and I tried on Halloween masks and tiaras. We reaped a lot of bounty that afternoon, and if exchanging Andrew Jacksons is a means of measure... let’s just say that she was three times more successful than I was. (And that’s all I can say, in the event her husband is reading!).

The cake made it perfectly through the heat of the afternoon, and when we returned to her car, I took the box and the food cartons. We hesitated, as we always do, when we must part. I don’t see her nearly as often as I would like... as she lives on one end of the universe, and I on the other. We hugged and I thanked her, from the bottom of my heart, for making my day so special. And we were off...

I made it only a few blocks from the parking lot when my cell phone rang. I recognized the number, as well as the chuckling on the other end of the line. It seems that she was calling to share more sage wisdom about dry ice.

If you leave a bottle of water in the cooler with dry ice, it will form a solid that rather explodes upon opening.

It was a fun day. I can’t wait to do it again.