I had a paper-signing kind of morning so was stunned to come to work a little late and find this party set up, with CAKE. I know that my branch manager makes spectacular cakes; its a bit of a hobby with her. This one was so big that I had to ask if it was a box. She assured me that is was a four-sheet layer cake. I thought - who is going to eat all that cake?!
Ian and I were huge fans of the Frasier show, so I
certainly appreciate this sentiment. If you didn't watch the show - never mind.
The staff gathers and I am instructed to cut my cake. Push a little harder, they say. Hmmm, try another spot. Too hard? Go a little lower.
things not right here. I try several spots on top, then poke the frosting on the sides. It's becoming clear that nothing is cake-like. I scrape the frosting across the top - and it is so too a box.
There, you can see, is what my cake really is, and I'm having a *piece* of it as I type right now. I have been very fortunate to work with powerful and wonderful women. Who else would come up with all of this?!
I wish there were some way I could share the contents of the Slam Book they made for me. They decided it would be better than a card. Oh yeah, right on. You have to click for big to get the cracy authentic details and the custom spiral binding.
You cannot begin to imagine the pages that my book contains, each with answers by one of my co-
workers. This page is "How long have you worked with Sharon?" to which someone responded "Define work" and another - "Who's Sharon?" They thought this would be better than a card. Oh yeah. I laugh harder every time I read through it.
And there you have it. I am in front of my nearly balded work-
station and soon to be no more, as in the Monty Python parrot - this parrot is no more. Me neither.
Retirement, here I come.
Santa's Weaving Elves
6 hours ago