OK, to be more accurate, it began last January. I took a cake class so I could make my daughter's first birthday cake. Not that you have to take a cake class to make a cake. You can make a cake with no instruction whatsoever. I certainly did. Yeah.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjCmTaMOZ-PSxOBnRHW552bfcjJ221AE3b7-DBdrfUXitpuEgRyB1gyaXBcmp-pJ6XgJPokkMkeIJzmy9P54XPNWTxZthumO7LrhPE5Tv4iBawx6-ASiL35XlUcTtUwYgRpdysbJjej_59/s200/chesscake2.jpg)
Note that fabulous fondant work. Yeesh.
Knowing that first birthday cakes are forever immortalized in baby books, I decided to get some professional instruction before I tried to make Emi's. And so, with the first class of the first Wilton course under my belt, I made the cake.
At the time, I thought it was pretty cute. Still do, actually. And, it was fun. So, I kept taking classes and I kept making cakes.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioaG_wpXUpAA_XSLcVLt32NU2rHqOfjklTOmI1L5XoRMDM-dj3g2gPfw-0xrRjU3dmSeRNrF2_YvyJ8XaZtzP1zOOhZxCe7O0-RpLASaUDoj8Y4ZyJoK5Cy6_8C8tc-noaTDaxG4gqp60A/s200/castle1.jpg)
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijGC_qPUcfGPcdDzdbnx6Ynph07g390TVWrx1O47l4_AtVm7_foAGxtArJ6hnQ4FbHn08DvSkp55z0IzJMd8EM4IzcmuIhQ2U3KckfAhnPS6ax8V2W9fsS87y4G9TEYHWNpFKbVYciyVL7/s200/8.jpg)
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAlQM0ognOhWFiRbaivDGwqVh3EzRfh3gj62adic_DqlHG16B1W5zfnco9aaXEHBDo7artQCyEkXB15yNR9Mcg2Nymeqa8Xdom8f-H6bZ1-Yw7fL2DRWkXsuXq-XZcY1_K29-8hpDCL0v4/s200/karate.jpg)
Every once in a while, I have a cake adventure that I want to remember. Something happens with a person or a cake that strikes me as funny and it makes me wish I had a blog to record the story. So here we are.
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