Once upon a time I took a cake decorating class with some co-workers. I went purely for the social aspect of it and had absolutely zero interest in actually learning how to decorate cakes, much to the shagrin of the instructor. She would get on to me for holding the frosting bag incorrectly and using the wrong techniques. So I would struggle awkwardly while she stood peering over my shoulder and as soon as her back was turned, I would continue in my heathen decorating ways.
The girls I teach at church wanted to learn to decorate cakes for an activity so last night we gave them some cakes and a vat of frosting and let them have at it.
I don’t know my genealogy that far back, but after last night I have a hunch there’s some daVinci blood in me somewhere.
Mona Lisa, Shmona Lisa.
My instructor was a fool not to recognize my talents. A fool I tell ya!