Friendship Cake Recipe

I received a lot of responses to my Facebook posts about the friendship cake.  This is Mike's absolute favorite and I can't resist eating it up like a piggy with the munchies.  So I thought I'd post the recipe.  This is not my own original recipe.  It's straight out of the novel Friendship Cake by Lynne Hinton.  You can check out the book on Amazon and even take a sneak peak inside.





Friendship Cake

CAKE

Ingredients:


1 box Duncan Hines butter cake mix
1 small pkg (5 oz) vanilla pudding
1/2 cup oil
1/2 cup water
1/2 cup creme sherry
1 cup pecans, finely chopped
4 eggs

Directions: 

     Preheat oven to 325.  Place all cake ingredients in mixing bowl.  Mix on slow for 1 minute and then on medium for 3 minutes. Pour into a well-greased and floured bundt cake pan.  Bake at 325 for 1 hour. (test with toothpick)


DRESSING


Ingredients:

3/4 cup sugar
3/4 stick real butter
3 Tblsp water
3 Tblsp creme sherry

Directions:
  
     Boil all ingredients for 2 to 3 minutes.  Pour over hot cake while still in pan.  LET CAKE COOL COMPLETELY IN PAN.  Turn out onto cake stand and enjoy.

Things That Make Me Smile

This Pillow Book entry is inspired by The Pillow Book of Sei Shōnagon, translated and edited by Ivan Morris. Sei Shōnagon was a courtesan in 10th century Japan who kept a diary of the goings-on at court and concealed it in her wooden pillow. She made lists under various categories of specific, often quirky things.

Things That Make Me Smile:

My son. He always makes me smile with his darling smile and clever sense of humor.  I can't even get mad at him without breaking into a grin at his puppy dog face.

My husband when he is genuinely interested in everything I do.  I love that when I get excited about something, he always matches my enthusiasm with the same interest and delight.

A beautiful flower. The wind in my face right before it storms. When it's not too hot and not too cold.  "Knowing God forgives my sins. Blessings Everywhere."

Seeing my son learn something new, or discover something that I've grown accustomed to for the very first time.

When my current favorite song plays on the radio. Getting a package in the mail.  Finding a penny. An unexpected kind word.  When you pass a stranger on the street and they flash a huge grin.

Being Tired Silly.  Definition: When one is so exhausted that the whole world becomes a surreal, hilarious experience.  This condition is usually accompanied by a serious case of the giggles.  WARNING do not operate a motor vehicle while suffering from Tired Silly.

Bare Feet

     Summer brought the sound of firecrackers, the smell of rain on mown grass, and the inevitable sting of a careless step.  Mama was always there to rub a paste of Baking Soda and water on the swollen toe, heel, or arch.  Sitting with my foot propped up on a pillow, I would sneak a taste of the salty goo.

     Autumn meant a new pair of shoes and less lectures on the dangers of “runnin' round the yard barefoot.”  You needed thick soles to make it past the crisp oak leaves and prickly gumballs, all the way down the gravel driveway to wait for the bus. 

     It was nothing like the summer garden after it rained for three days straight.  The dusty trails between rows of watermelon, okra, and green beans were transformed into slicks of perfect mud.  While Mama worked tending her plants, my sister and I spent hours feeling the mud slide between our toes, pressing down until we couldn’t see our feet, pulling up with a smack, leaving little brown puddles in our wake. 

Things That are White

This Pillow Book entry is inspired by The Pillow Book of Sei Shōnagon, translated and edited by Ivan Morris. Sei Shōnagon was a courtesan in 10th century Japan who kept a diary of the goings-on at court and concealed it in her wooden pillow. She made lists under various categories of specific, often quirky things.



A wedding dress. Perfection. The skin of a new born baby. The soul of an innocent child. The tops of mountains. The world early in the morning after a light snow. The petals on a daisy. The bedroom my sister and I shared when we went to visit Nanny in West Virginia. Even the knotted bedspreads that felt like they were covered with tiny round candies. And the radiator that clicked and pinged in the dead of night. We fought over who would have to sleep in the bed closest to it. Misty always won.  After all, she was the oldest, even if only by fourteen months.

A Preacher Ought to Be Good Looking

This Pillow Book entry is inspired by The Pillow Book of Sei Shōnagon, translated and edited by Ivan Morris. Sei Shōnagon was a courtesan in 10th century Japan who kept a diary of the goings-on at court and concealed it in her wooden pillow. She made lists under various categories of specific, often quirky things.


Yes, this is actually an entry in Sei Shonagon's pillow book.  I was tickled by it, so let's give freewriting this topic a shot:

A preacher ought to be good looking because one has to keep eyes on him.  The first time I heard Mike deliver a sermon, I was overwhelmed by feelings of nervousness, excitement, pride, joy, but mostly nervousness.  It was his first sermon, delivered at a small country church in Nimrod, Arkansas.  The church that confirmed his call and presented him with his license.  It was a lovely place, a church family full of geniune Christian brothers and sisters.

Nimrod Baptist church was the first church Mike and I joined as husband and wife.  It was an hour drive from our home in Ferndale, AR.  It was a beauitiful drive up HWY 10, past Lake Maumelle, and through the Ouachita National Forest past Perryville. The sun would rise over Lake Maumelle on Sunday mornings giving us a spectacular reminder of God's power and grace. Later as we drove from Perryville to Nimrod, the road was lined by fields of yellow flowers, carpeting the ground as it rose to the tree line.

To Run Breathless

More cotton

than you care to see.

There used

to be time

for driving,

for singing

at the top

of our lungs,

running, screaming.

Our legs stopped

craving the feeling

of being stretched, pushed.

Running with mouths

wide open,

tiny yelps greeting

clouds of dust.

The field strewn

with yellow buds,

a blanket of sunshine.

Driving, we wish

we hadn’t forgotten

running breathless, to lay

in summer-bloomed shade

of trees, gulping air

like water.

Things that arouse a fond memory of the past

This Pillow Book entry is inspired by The Pillow Book of Sei Shōnagon, translated and edited by Ivan Morris. Sei Shōnagon was a courtesan in 10th century Japan who kept a diary of the goings-on at court and concealed it in her wooden pillow. She made lists under various categories of specific, often quirky things.


Leaves falling around me like rain on a windy Autumn day. One fall day in the first year of our marriage, Mike and I took a walk. We were surprised by a shower of golden leaves.

The smell of stage make-up. This specific scent conjurs memories of dancing with The Arkansas Ballet.  To be on stage, beneath the spotlights, made-up and outfitted like a prima ballerina: a beautiful experience for a young girl.

The song "Everywhere" by Tim McGraw.  My sister gave us this CD when James was born (a birthday present for my husband). I remember the quiet times sitting in the living room, holding my sleeping newborn son, listening to the soothing music with my husband, and being overwhelmed by a love I could never have imagined.

Things to Have a Dream About

This Pillow Book entry is inspired by The Pillow Book of Sei Shōnagon, translated and edited by Ivan Morris. Sei Shōnagon was a courtesan in 10th century Japan who kept a diary of the goings-on at court and concealed it in her wooden pillow. She made lists under various categories of specific, often quirky things.





Things to Have a Dream About:


Flying (I've only dreamt this once and I couldn't get the hang of it. I was going feet first and awkwardly trying to manipulate my body in it's weightless state)

Being pampered

Who my son will turn into ~ I wouldn't miss the process ~ I just want a little peek

Wearing the perfect fashionista outfit (that may sound childish, but it's in me)

Beginning to fall in love ~ the anticipation and excitement of not-knowing, being afraid of a wanted kiss, heart racing when he walks into the room. The security and maturity of marital love is wonderful, but it's different.  Danger is lovely. I remember being afraid to say "I love you," because he might go away. When I met my husband we were both afraid to let go and trust that we wouldn't be hurt again. I fell in love when he told me it was okay to cry. He said, "I'll fix you and then you'll move on. That's what always happens."  I proved him wrong and haven't felt worthless since.

Why I'm Writing

There's something about writing things down that make them real.  There's something about putting your darkest, most secret thoughts on paper that frightens me.  When it's only in your head, a thought can always be forgotten.  The written word is hot;  A red hot iron touched to your soul, searing it, scarring your memory.