This weekend Derek and I had a discussion about our wedding cake.  It was our anniversary last week so this really isn't SO out of order but that isn't the reason that we were discussing our wedding cake.  We were discussing our wedding cake because I have a cake fetish when I am pregnant.  Most people have more normal cravings.  Not me.  Just plain ol' supermarket cake. 

Before you become alarmed at the thought of me having a supermarket cake for my wedding (as it is an item of interest that could cause great alarm), this was a wedding cake from a gourmet (pronounced gorr-met) supermarket.  I put my wedding cake (and who am I kidding, the rest of the damn wedding) in the capable hands of my dear sister.  When she asked what kind of cake I wanted, I said, "A cake."  She got us the best tasting wedding cake I have ever had.  And I have been to a boatload of weddings over the years.  Sure, it looked a little dicey because it appears that they forgot to make my cake and then just took 5 layers out of the freezer, slapped them on each other and called it a day.  But joy of joys, it tasted AMAZING. 

But here's the kicker.  You can buy the VERY SAME CAKE in the bakery dept of the the supermarket.  I discovered this the last time I was pregnant and visiting my sister.  So when we went to Lucy's birthday party this weekend, you know my ass was in the market, buying a half-round cake.  Because I know restraint.  In retrospect, I should have bought a wedding cake because I could have eaten all five layers.

This does not explain why we were discussing the cake however.  We were discussing the cake because after purchasing the half-round cake for $4.79 (with a whole round coming in at a whopping $7.99), I mentioned to my loving husband that we could have ordered 16 round cakes and placed them in the center of each table, thrown in a few plastic forks, saving ourselves $522.16. 

Here's the joke.  When you are spending enough on a wedding that you could have just bought yourself one of these in cash (thank you, little condo, btw, for making all my wedding dreams come true--call me The Donald in the good real estate years), you may suddenly realize the absurdity of the conversation.  We, however, did not.  Instead we discussed it for a whole 17 minutes.  17 minutes that could have been better spent discussing global warming, Madonna's adoption debacle or the prohibitive cost of public transportation in this country.  But why?  Why would we discuss these things when we could discussing saving money 3 years after the fact?

I think this is marriage.  It is, right?