You think by now I'd know better. As of today—sigh—I have 54 years' worth of girls.
So you'd think I'd be the last one to view the fairer gender through rose-colored glasses. It's not like I'm not oh so well aware of just how...let's say very very human the femalé of the species is.
And yet I'm still surprised when I'm making the cake with the birthday girl, who wanted red velvet cake, and as we add the wet ingredients the batter goes from a dull brownish powder to a vivid, garish, viscous vermillion, and she gives a low, dark chuckle and growls, "Mmm...blood."