Jewish Apple Cake

-or-

Peeling Apples while Listening to the Appleseed Cast

Sarah's birthday is tomorrow, and when I asked her what kind of cake she wanted, I expected something like, "Chocolate with vanilla icing!" but instead she was like, "Oooh, I really love Jewish apple cake with a scoop of ice cream alongside..."

I like the way she thinks, but Jewish apple cake does not come in a box. I had to make it utterly from scratch, and when I slid it into the oven looking all pretty and full of potential, I realized that I had completely forgotten to add the baking soda. Let's hope 1 teaspoon does not a cake make.

When I was at the grocery store this afternoon, buying apples and BAKING SODA, the woman in front of me on line was nine cents short for her half gallon of milk. She was fishing around in the bottom of her bag, apologizing in a soft Irish accent, when I whipped out my trusty wallet and found that I had exactly nine cents, which I handed to the tiny Indian woman behind the register. The Irish woman said, "Oh no, I couldn't possibly--" 

And I said, "It's just nine cents." 

And she said, "Yes, but that's still nine cents." 

And I said, "Yes, but don't worry. It's fine." 

And she said, "Oh thank you so much, that's so kind. I hope you win the lotto!"

I felt like Amelie. (A little, and less technicolor.) Tomorrow I'm totally buying a lottery ticket.