So the flaw in my Chocolate Week plan is that people give me so much chocolate for my birthday, there’s really no need for me to make more of my own goodies.
I showed up birthday morning to find David Tennant at my desk. It was only a cardboard version, but a full 6 feet tall, so enough for me to say, “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.” If only I still had the Tardis my coworkers built me last year, David and I could have gone off together, through all of cardboard time and space.
For lunch I took a couple of my friends on an outing. For years I’ve been wanting to go to the PEZ Museum in Burlingame, CA, and I decided not to put it off for another single day.
It’s a small place, just one room for the museum and one more room for a shop, but your $3 admission gets you a guided tour from the owner and I actually learned a few things from him. For example, did you know that PEZ comes from Austria? It’s not an American candy, which is what my friends and I all assumed. Like I said, a very educational outing.
Back at the office I was waiting for my ice cream cake to make its appearance. It’s what I got last year, because my manager asked if there was anything in particular I wanted and I hadn’t had one of those since I was little. It was very yummy. So I figured I’d be getting that again, which was fine with me.
But my coworkers had a bigger trick up their sleeve. I heard some rustling behind me at my desk and when I turned around there was a whole line of people with baked goods:
Not just *one* person had made something for me, but *eight* of them sweated away in their kitchens in the middle of the week to create something homemade. Amazing!
We had salted caramels, rum cake (with extra rum), red velvet cupcakes, macadamia nut cookies, a selection of fruit, a vegan chocolate torte made with avocado and dates, Irish Car Bomb cupcakes, an assortment of macarons (which did come from a bakery, but hey, an effort was still made), and chocolate bacon cookies made by Canadian Nick, who hates chocolate. He went against everything he believes in to make me a birthday treat. He didn’t eat a single one of them, but he made them from scratch.
They also made little signs for each treat, just like I do, but they did it with awesome graphics, which I might have to start doing.
And the toppper, so to speak, was a picture of me on the red velvet cupcakes. I’m no Joshua Jackson, but I think I look pretty adorable on a toothpick.
The Irish Car Bomb cupcakes had an incredible ganache center. I should have taken a photo of the cross-section, but I ate it faster than my brain thought of that.
It was an overwhelming afternoon of sugar and coworker love. I’m very lucky to spend my days with such generous people who have such good taste in desserts.
Lisa, it’s your birthday. Happy birthday, Lisa…