In this post there is a picture of the Gingerbread Grandma that Summer made for my birthday. Oh, heck, maybe I have the picture still; let me see.

Yessirree, Bob, here it is.

Then we ate it, but not all of it. There is a grandma torso now on the table; I can’t complain, I started it off by doing the lobotomy. Then a hand went, a foot . . . another foot. It’s gruesome. I don’t know if I can manage a picture. But I can:

She also made me another cake – picture to come – Oh, here it is:

that is a four layer grey-iced tower. Inside, each level is a different color, representing a rainbow. The idea was grey hair but still full of life . . . she said.

Her grandpa was afraid the grey head would hurt my feelings, but Summer told him we understand each other . . . she’s right.

And, for some reason, I was tempted and succumbed and took a picture of Der Bingle’s grey/blond curls.