Happy birthday, and many eqaully happy returns. I'm so confused, between the placenta and the kaka and the peppermint-frosted Jesus, that I may never have another birthday cake, not that I usually have one anyway, being a most uncelebratory sort of person.You reminded me, however, of the last birthday cake I made, which happened to be for a boss of mine. I couldn't ever do anything right for this boss; it was a really bad match of job and talents (it wasn't my fault that I had a Tullius Rooms-esque associative filing system, was it?) and so, in a gesture of penitent obsequy, I decided to make a birthday cake.Except I'm not so good at that kind of thing, either. I don't know how the layers turned out to be two different sizes, when I was using two pans that were the same size. It was all just a sad failure that could not be disguised with icing, though I tried.My boss looked at the cake, which I had left on her desk as a surprise, and then came out to my desk to say, in her inimitably frostbitten manner, So, David can I assume that's your handiwork?