Its name is wedding

This morning the Philosophe gifted me this card:

I never thought I would get a fourth birthday card again, but this was a stroke of genius. See, just over four years ago, we had a little impromptu gathering with a few friends, telling them we had some important news. Thinking that we were oh-so clever and funny, we told them that we’re having a baby… and its name is wedding.

There were more than a few minutes of extreme awkwardness as our friends tried to figure out what the hell we were talking about, and how to respond. Or rather, they (all!) first understood it to mean that I was pregnant, and that we were going to call our child wedding. For some reason, both of those possibilities seemed to them silly/preposterous/insane, but they did what friends do and played along. I think a full half hour passed before someone was brave enough to ask if we were serious, and the truth finally came out: We were getting married (duh!).

Today Americans are going to gorge themselves on turkey and all manner of pies – some to ridiculous extremes – in the name of giving thanks (and good luck to them: I’ve attended one such shindig, and it was truly terrifying). Here, we give thanks to our wedding, which has finally grown out of its nappies and screaming fits and into something that’s old enough to be left in front of the television for a couple of hours a day. And since no birthday is complete without cake, I give you:

(Inspired by this banana cardamom cake with browned butter frosting: I added fresh ginger to the cake, substituted pistachios and coconut for the walnuts, and rum to the icing, because that’s how we roll.)