I turned eighteen about a week after starting college 800 miles away from home.  I was more than a tad homesick, and pretty sad about missing my birthday with the family.

So my mother, bless her, sent me my favorite birthday cake.  Great Aunt Alma’s chocolate sheet cake.  In a pan.  In a box.  Surrounded by dry ice.  (Because it was August, obviously.)  One thing she forgot, though is that the dry ice evaporates, leaving the pan to bounce around in the shipping box.  The cake pan was seriously dented by the time I got it, but oh so good.  My whole dorm floor helped me eat all eleventy billion calories of sweet buttery goodness.

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