I just celebrated my birthday; and in our office we celebrate birthdays with food. The person who had the last birthday has to bring in whatever the birthday person wants. It’s always a dessert.
A few days before my birthday some of us were having lunch; and Sally asks me, “What do you want for your birthday?”
Before I could speak, Marcia announces, “apple pie with ice cream and caramel sauce.”
“Apple pie is good but I love carrot cake,” I say.
“We have to have something else then because I don’t like carrot cake,” my co-worker laments. But it’s not your birthday, I think to myself.
“Carrot cake, it is then!” and I leave the room.
The day before my birthday we decide to postpone the celebration until the next week because several people are out. When I get to my office the morning of my birthday, sitting on my desk is a luscious looking, mile-high, cream cheese slathered carrot cake just for me. It’s from my friend, Pamela. I wrap it up; “this is going home with me!”
That night after my husband had gone to bed, I break open my cake. Because it is late and I know that each piece is going to be a teeth-chattering morsel of sensuality, I cut a small piece. I’ll save some for tomorrow.
Tuesday, the next week, everyone was in. An email went out, “We’ll celebrate Julie’s birthday at 12:30.” Everyone gathered in the lounge for a bakery fresh apple pie and creamy vanilla ice cream. A not so rousing rendition of Happy Birthday was sung; and we ate pie. It doesn’t it get any better than that – carrot cake AND apple pie!.