Shocked and Awed...

...and psychotically frustrated, because I can't figure out how to upload party pictures. Grrrr. Must relax and release...

So yesterday, my completely amazing colleagues hosted my first-ever surprise birthday party! I didn't see it coming at all. And I can honestly say that it was the best office party I've ever attended. ;-)

Here's how it all went down:

Early in the week, Carli asked if I wanted to go to noon mass at Old St. Mary's with her on Thursday. I was happy to go, because this activity was on my approved list of Things I Have Done Before and Enjoyed. (Oh, stop looking at me like that! As if you never go to church on your lunch hour.) Anyway, the service was lovely, and on our way back Carli suggested that we visit the farmer's market across the street from our office. Only she had forgotten to bring her aunt's recipe for ratatouille, and she couldn't quite remember what vegetables she needed at the market. So we would need to go back into the building to get the recipe.

Here's where I, totally oblivious, unwittingly throw a wrench into the party plans: "Okay, I'll wait down here and people-watch while you go get it." After all, it was a gorgeous day, and the parade of people in the Financial District is endlessly fascinating. Well, maybe not quite endlessly. Because as the minutes ticked away without Carli's return, I started to get a wee bit antsy. How long can it take to print an email or grab a piece of paper? Finally, my cubicle neighbor Katherine came rushing toward me, looking and sounding convincingly discombobulated. "Tamika! Carli just got a disturbing phone call and she can't come down. She asked me to come get you."

Crap. A disturbing phone call? Did someone die? As we take the elevator up to our floor, my stomach is sinking, and this is what it looks like inside my head. Thought One: "OMG. Is she okay?" Thought Two: "Will this require tears?" I'm just not good at crying, and most girls are, so I'm always worried that my dry-eyed countenance will come off the wrong way during emotional discussions. I care! I really do! But my tear ducts won't tell you that. I probably cry about four times a year in private, and almost never in public. Not when I'm happy, not when I'm sad. Not at weddings, not at funerals. Not when the Red Sox finally won it all. In fact, if you're my friend and you've seen me cry at any time since the Clinton Administration, please raise your hand. QED. Thought Three: "I really need to pee." But it would be callous to make a stopover at the loo when you know that a friend has received A Disturbing Phone Call.

And then Katherine opened the door to our suite, and I walked in to see many of my favorite people gathered around a table groaning with food, and standing beneath a huge sign that read, "Happy Birthday Tamika!" Totally blown away.

And it gets better. There was a gorgeous, rich chocolate cake from Fatapple's complete with candles. (So much better than subpar office sheet cake. Y'all know what I'm talking about--that artless, vaguely chemical-tasting concoction that leaves you thinking, "Why? Why did I waste the calories?") And gifts! Two lovely inspirational books and an iPod Shuffle. Insanity.

George Bailey: (holding ZuZu in his arms) : Wh-wh-why Mary--I never realized I had so many friends! A-a man wh-who has a friend is a rich man, that's what Clarence said, and by golly he was right!

Everyone is so good to me. I'm the luckiest girl in the world.