The best birthday cake ever

My wife baked pound cake for my 75th birthday yesterday. Whatever degree of good anybody else’s pound cake attains, my wife’s is at least two times better. We have been married 48 1/2 years. She has made at least 55 pound cakes, and each has been the same degree of good.

My wife’s pound cake is not that smooth, arced thing made and sold by commercial bakeries. No. Her pound cake is Bundt-pan-size, with almost a crust of ridges. I should stop and just say her pound cake is delicious.

Priscilla, Michael, Kathleen and I had cake with strawberries and whipped cream. Delicious. But I repeat myself.

I asked my wife what were the ingredients. I should have known, after 48 1/2 years, and I sort of did. Flour, a little sugar, butter and eggs, my wife said. Six eggs.

When I heard the six eggs part, I said, “Breakfast!” Six eggs might sound like a lot, but when whipped and mixed with the other ingredients, those half dozen eggs are spread out.

At supper last night, I mentioned to my wife that she, Michael and Kathleen could have half the cake. “The rest is mine,” I said.

I am looking forward to several breakfasts of the best pound cake ever. Ever.