Happy Birthday to Me

Seems I was a bit premature about announcing the end of the year of Anti-Bob.

As expected Pat made an Apple Pie for my birthday. Pat makes the best apple pies (the secrets are good apples cut thin and a flaky homemade crust). Pat claims that she learned how to make pie crusts from her mother. I claim that I taught her how to make pie crusts. It does not matter, the crust was excellent as was the pie.

Stu went out after dinner so the dessert and gift portion of the evening was going to be delayed. Pat, catering to my inner child, made tarlettes out of the leftover crust and raspberry jam. They tasted wonderful; flaky but with that chewy, sticky candy like raspberry. They were so wonderful, in fact, that I did not notice that I had swallowed the one gold crown I own.

I did not tell Pat about my dental failings until after the pie was consumed. After all, they deserve to celebrate my Bobinicity as well as I do and we all put a lot of effort in our mini-celebrations. They put up with me for the year so they deserve pie.

There are few things I like less than dentistry. One item that is below the dentistry bar is having 1/2 a tooth. So, I spent my first day as a 51 year old arranging for and going to the dentist.

I figure that the lost crown was a fitting end of the year of the anti-Bob. Job had it worst. Lots of folks had it worst. All I could do is laugh and move on (and I did laugh).