Cake-tathalon

This is what the inside of my brain looks like.

My Dude and I got engaged recently, and we decided that the easiest thing to do would be to have the wedding 600 miles from where we actually live. This means that the amount of time we have to meet and speak with photographers, florists, etc., must be limited to one short, jam-packed visit. Well folks, I have just returned from said visit, and I'm pretty sure I have wedding coming out of every orifice. Forreals, I am still yanking the tulle out of my ears.

Luckily, there was a big pot o' gold at the end of the rainbow, my saving grace after four exhausting days: the cake tasting. Confection bakery of Kalamazoo, I owe you my life. I do not think I would have had the strength to go on had you not provided me with no fewer than six kinds of cake, six frostings, and four fillings to sample, in various combinations.

Honey buttercream: this must be what angel poo tastes like

As you would expect, choosing my wedding cake is not a decision that I take lightly. In fact, I trained for weeks for this event so that I would be at the top of my cake-eating game. I was bench-pressing cupcakes, doing laps in a vat of ganache; it was a very demanding regimen.

At the end of the race, we had a three-way tie between the banana cake, the hazelnut with amaretto frosting, and honey-lavender cake with honey buttercream. After running through the play-by-play, my dude and I are pretty settled on the winner. And the prize is an all expense paid trip to my belly.