James and the Giant Chocolate Cake

Every once in a while my husband gets a bug up his...er, well, he gets these wild inclinations to do something out of the ordinary. Yesterday he declared that he was going to make a homemade chocolate cake.

I mentally objected for several reasons, the first and foremost being that I'm trying not to eat such tantalizing things as chocolate cake. But trying to dissuade my husband from indulging in this inclination is like trying to stop a moving train. It ain't gonna happen.

So being the helpful *cough* wife that I am, I gathered up the necessary items for his homemade chocolate cake at the store. Not only did I gather up the ingredients for him (including spending seven some odd dollars for a liter of grape seed oil--even though the recipe called for only a half cup) but I bought brand spanking new cake pans for him as well. His chocolate cake would spring from style if nothing else.

Soon the mixing, stirring, folding and grating started. The batter went into the new cake pan and was promptly popped in the oven to bake. 50 minutes later a beautiful chocolate cake, perfectly formed, emerged from the heat of the oven. I was in the middle of getting ready for work so I barely glanced at the confection, and even refused a bite of it after it was patted down with grated chocolate to create it's frosting. But it looked good.

Later that evening Jim reported that the dog ate the cake. She apparently thought it looked good, too. Jim had left the house for roughly 10 minutes to drop the girls off at church and he returned to a very guilty looking Harley Blu. She spent the rest of the day in her crate.

But this development didn't deter my husband from his cake. He announced this morning after I woke up that he was going to make another chocolate cake and try a new recipe. "It has beets in it!" he announced.

Methinks that I won't be trying this one, either.

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