This is why we can't have nice things, Christmas edition.
So one of my mother's favorite Christmas desserts, and a holiday tradition in our house for many years, is red velvet cake with boiled buttercream. I've never been a big fan; the frosting is too sweet, and as far as I could see, the only difference between red velvet cake and any other cake was food coloring. (I've since learned a bit more about it, and there really isn't that much more difference: red velvet cake uses a bit of vinegar and a small amount of cocoa powder, not enough to qualify it as a chocolate cake and - more importantly - not enough to inhibit the color. Suffice to say, I'm still not impressed.)
But every year, red velvet cake, and I'll have a piece, but I can take it or leave it.
Another convention, this one born from necessity: we kept desserts that needed to be chilled outside in the garage, sealed, on top of the cars. In the case of the red velvet cake, we had a cake cover.
So one day I get into my car to drive to an appointment. I turn onto a road that is an overpass over the highway ... and all of a sudden, I see something white fly past in my rear view mirror, followed by ...
Yep, that's the cake. Cover, cake, plate and all whooshed off the top of my car and landed on the bridge over the highway.
I swear there was no subliminal malevolence about it, but I don't think I ever even retrieved the cover, because it was *over the highway.*