Celebrating Life's Sweet Victories

We'd could all use more victories in life, no doubt.  And more celebrations, too.  With that in mind, I have just the thing for you. 

But first, allow me to provide some background.

I have a friend named Andy.  I've made it my policy thus far, in the third week of The LG Report, not to reveal last names, unless I'm talking about a public figure (e.g. Martha Stewart.)  Andy is a lawyer in Philadelphia.  He's a very public, larger-than-life figure to those who know him, but I'll conceal his last name, for now, nonetheless.

I've known Andy for what seems like an eternity, but our friendship probably dates from 1994 or 1995.  Andy sailed through life happily as a bachelor, until he met, became smitten with, and married (about five years ago), the exceedingly lovely Deb. 

She is attractive, charming, intelligent and genuinely nice.

Andy is loud, sometimes rude, juvenile, loud (did I mention that one already?), a practical joker and loud (I really need to drive that one home).  Oh, and everyone loves him.  But I won't swell his head by reciting his good qualities.  It really wouldn't take long though.

Deb marrying Andy, was like the Queen of England marrying Tarzan. 

There's a saying that originated on playgrounds and eventually spilled over into society: "Playing above the rim."  In sports, it means that you're playing better than you usually do -- performing at a level that's "out of your league." 

This saying has been applied in another context to romance.  When you are "playing above the rim" in a relationship, it means that you're out of your league or dating someone who is too good for you. 

Andy, when he married Deb, practically bumped his head on the ceiling of the Spectrum, that's how far over the rim he was.  I trust you get my point.

Deb was a very successful financial services industry executive before she left her job in 2009 and followed her passion to baking.  She is privy to a long-held family recipe for a delicacy called an "Irish Victory Cake."
Deb's great grandfather, James MacDowell (of the MacDougall Clan) was a baker in Belfast, Northern Ireland.  He created, or at least perfected, a recipe for rich, buttery cakes that were beautifully decorated.

The baking talents of James MacDowell were in demand among the royalty of Ireland, Scotland and England.  He won gold medals in baking competitions throughout the British Isles.  But, intent on providing his family with a better life, James MacDowell found an American sponsor, and emigrated to Syracuse, NY to further develop his special talents.

Apparently, he wanted to have his cake and eat it too (sorry, I couldn't resist; that's not in the official bio in case you were wondering.)

Cutting to the chase, Deb was kind enough to send me a Victory Cake recently.  They are fabulous.  Scrumptous.  Yummy.  A real treat.  And I don't endorse just any old product, I really have to believe in it. 

Victory Cakes look like muffins in size and shape, but that's where the similarity ends.  Just as three Jennifer Anistons are the same size as Rosie O'Donnell, it's a deceiving comparison.

Here's a picture of the tasty Victory Cake that Deb sent me:

Well, actually, that's not really the entire Victory Cake, just the remnants of it.  I meant to take a picture before I devoured it, but I couldn't hold out. 

I hope you get the point: these babies are good.  If you're interested in ordering, you can go to http://www.macdougallscakes.com/.  You can also contact Deb directly by e-mail at macdougallscakes@verizon.net or by phone at (610) 608-6889.  These babies make great gifts too, if you don't want to keep all the sweetness to yourself.

To the right is the card that came with my shipment.  I think it was the only thing in the box that I didn't eat. 

That's the post for today.  I just wanted to turn you on to a great new taste treat.  Victory Cakes are so good that you'd expect to find them at Wegmans! 

I'd suggest that Andy get himself a helmet, because now that Deb is making these cakes, he's so far above the rim that he's really going to be hitting his head on the ceiling.

Until tomorrow...