<a href="http://www.karolineskitchen.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/10/IMGP3791-2.jpg"><img class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-1342" src="http://www.karolineskitchen.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/10/IMGP3791-2.jpg" alt="60th anniversary" width="468" height="500" /></a>10 years ago, I flew down to St. Louis with my then boyfriend to meet his entire family.  We had only been dating about 5 months, but things were serious already.  My first encounter with the Anschutz/ Goodnick clan would be at the 50th anniversary celebration for B's grandparents.  At the time, I was fresh out of culinary school and working 2 jobs: one as a baker at Julius Meinl (an Austrian coffee shop in Chicago) and the other as the fish cook at the very fancy Ambria (a Spanish/ French fusion restaurant that has sadly since been retired).  The cake for this celebration was purchased from a local shop and transported to the event -- unassembled --  in the trunk of B's mom's car.  Of course, the layers slid around and crashed together, leaving them less than desirable upon arrival.  My MIL looked to me to fix the disaster.  She handed me a rubber spatula and a can of Pillsbury frosting.  With rookie baking skills and no stores open in their tiny town, there was little I could do.  I was humiliated.  She ended up slapping some baby's breath in front of the damage and calling it a day, but I was scarred.  I was supposed to be a baker.  Why couldn't I have fixed the cake?
<p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.karolineskitchen.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/10/IMGP3780-2.jpg"><img class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-1341" src="http://www.karolineskitchen.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/10/IMGP3780-2.jpg" alt="elegant anniversary cake" width="411" height="500" /></a></p>
<p style="text-align: center;">Fast forward 10 years, and B and I have been happily married for 8.5 years ourselves.  I no longer feel the need to impress the clan, who are now part of my family.  We have a crazy intense toddler and one on the way.  And, we live a 5-hour drive from the location of the 60th anniversary celebration.  But, I just couldn't help myself.  I had to volunteer to make the cake for the party.  10 years of embarrassment would be remedied with fancy cake for the 60th.  Well, it didn't quite turn out that way.  Life was crazy leading up to our trip down south &amp; I am TIRED.  I stressed big time about the cake surviving transport all the way down there.  Still, I assembled the cake, packed the car carefully, and drove like a nun with precious cargo.  We made it in one piece without even a scuff.  When I saw the flowers that were intended to dress up a very plain cake and hide the imperfections, I cringed.  The roses were huge and would have looked best on a cake 4 times the size of mine.  With no other choice, I pouted and sulked -- I'm blaming the pregnancy hormones -- and sent B to the store to find better flowers.  Of course, we weren't in the teeny town of Staunton this time, and there were stores actually open, but our options were quite limited.  I did what I could with a slew of white daisies and sat down lamenting the fact that I could not have a drink to take the edge off.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.karolineskitchen.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/10/IMGP3806-2.jpg"><img class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-1343" src="http://www.karolineskitchen.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/10/IMGP3806-2.jpg" alt="IMGP3806 (2)" width="500" height="424" /></a></p>
<p style="text-align: center;">Still, the cake was a hit.  Everybody loved the super smooth buttercream and the extra sweet raspberry filling.  (Few party guests opted for slices of the store bought birthday cake that accompanied mine on the dessert table.)  And, what really matters here anyway?  Two people got the chance to celebrate 60 years of life together with their family and friends.  They were surrounded by their 3 daughters, 6 grandchildren, and 2 great-grandchildren.  I'd say that's what counts.  How many of us will even be lucky enough to make it to 60 years together?  B's grandparents were young when they married (one barely 20 and the other in her teens), not like modern couples who wait till their late 20s or even 30s to tie the knot.  Just living that long -- and not killing each other -- is reason enough to celebrate.  Congratulations, Carol and Dean.  I know I am sure grateful for your time together since without it, I wouldn't have that sweet, sweet O or my awesome hubby.</p>