While I decorate the cake, with purple frosting, as per instructions, I ate breakfast of pancakes, Florida Orange juice and a cup of tea.

Some music to work by, Dolly Parton’s new CD, hmm maybe a Rod Stewart classic. Better yet a Fergie CD.

My son entered the room, ate the last of the bacon, and I yelled, “I told you not to eat that.”

“Sorry Mom, I was hungry, you almost done with Lizzies cake?”, he asked, looking at the finished cake.

“Yes , but you can’t have any until the party,” I scolded.

Later at Lizzies party, her Sweet 16. Everyone raved about the cake. They liked the cake! All my work, the cake now eaten, but well received. I’m glad I took pictures of it before it was devoured.

Lizzie said the sweater I bought her was not the color purple she wanted.

“Lizzie. I’m sorry about the sweater. I’ll get the right color at the mall tomorrow,” I promised.

“Thanks Mom, you’re the best,”, my daughter said.

Those words made all the shopping and decorating and preparation worth while.