First, there was my mother's chunky homemade carrot cake with cream cheese icing ...

Next, there was Janet's most impressive top hat torte, three layers of chocolate goodness divided by homemade whipped cream ...

And, then, on the evening of the 43rd anniversary of my birth, it finally appeared ... Alma Etheridge Wilson's Roanoke Sixteen Layer Chocolate Fudge Cake ... featured on the cover of the 2002 edition of Martha Stewart Living Annual Recipes ... fantasized about for five long years ... lovingly baked by Marian as the sweet finish to a beautiful day.

I love cake.

My mother's carrot cake makes my soul sing. This year, I hoarded most of it. I, of course, enjoyed a few slices shortly after my mom and sister delivered it. I shared a piece with Cheryl. And Martha and Elaine. But the rest is now squirreled away in the freezer, more than a dozen individual slices carefully wrapped in plastic and securely zipped in freezer bags. And, I'm not the least bit ashamed. Okay, maybe just a tad ashamed. But 15 seconds in the micro, and I'm in heaven.

Janet's cake - the second confection on the cake parade - was a feast for the eyes and the palate. I dubbed it the "top hat torte" because it towered over other cakes of its ilk. So moist. So rich. And the icing was perfectly spread, each chocolate swirl like a curl on an angel's head. Apparently I'm not the only one who likes cake because that thing of beauty was gone by the end of the day. Janet, here's your chance to come out of hiding and post the recipe. We're all waiting.

The third cake of my 43rd birthday was the fantasy cake. Sixteen wafer thin layers separated by that crunchy double boiler glaze-like icing that nobody makes anymore, except maybe little old ladies in south Georgia. I have to tell you about this cake. When I saw it in Martha Stewart Living five years ago, I fell in love. I cut out a picture of the cake and carried it in my wallet. I showed it to friends the way proud parents pull out photos of their children. You can imagine what I felt when I walked in the kitchen to discover Marian preparing what I never thought I'd ever see live and in color. I was absolutely delirious with joy until she turned to me with a tired smile and said .... "The only way I'll ever bake this cake again is if it is your deathbed wish."

As I perused the three columns of baking instructions, I began to get a sense of the gravity of Marian's gesture. And when I took a few slices of the cake to work to share with my colleagues, they too gave me a sense of the gravity of this gesture.

Food has meaning, friends. When people give you something they made with their own two hands, they are giving you bits and pieces of their time and imagination, their heart and soul.

So thank you, mom, for the carrot cake ...

And, Janet, for the chocolate torte ...

And, Marian, for making my dreams come true.

I live a charmed life. And, I'm thankful for it - every minute of every day.