Let 'em eat cake

Hearing Lynne Rossetto Kasper’s savory radio voice (The Splendid Table) inspired me to take the Missoni sweaters out of the stove  (where they’re being stored for the summer) and bake a carrot-ginger birthday cake fit for a Diamond District (DC) princess.  
 
Then watching Rene Russo (size 0) slink around the Metropolitan Museum of Art in The Thomas Crown Affair catapulted me back to reality.  
 
Baking a cake means eating a cake.   And wouldn’t it be oh so much better if one could actually sit down in the khaki YSL jumpsuit for the duration of the plane ride to Reykjavik, ISK (Iceland) tomorrow night?   
 
(Side Bar: Icelandic vacays are now cheaper than a rountrip Bolt Bus ticket to NYC!) 
Am now on a jet speed texting my assistant with directions to call Deborah (of Chatmans’ Bakery on 9th St.) ASAP for a few dozen carrot cupcakes fit for my fav April Birthday darlings: Mariessa T., Lloyd T., Jr., Deanna J., Nichole M., Wanda S. and Emerson B.  Federal Express is a wonder.

Three raspberry bellini’s and I am fit and fabulous and apparently not using my indoor (private jet) voice.  Must remember to turn down the volume before asking the svelte steward for a fourth fluffed pillow.  
 
ZUOUSH! Its just nerves.  
 
How many times is one asked to memorize the perfect toast for MT’s 26th birthday? (10 times)  But in Iceland?!  (1 time) 
 
April birthday babies are a special lot and they deserve to eat Deborah’s birthday cake in Iceland with me and about 40 other dolls teetering on the cusp of SUPER Stardom.