Curveball of a Day

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Everyone says that Peace Corps brings good days and bad days. No one warned me about the third kind of day: the curve ball kind of day. Turns out, this last one is my favorite kind of Peace Corps day. 

The Curve Ball Day is what I call those days where you think you are going to do something, then you find yourself in a completely bizarre situation light years away from what you expected it to be. Anyone who has been invited to a 'meeting' then ends up in a parade, a rice eating contest (that's you, Nicole Thomas) or a drinking circle knows what I am talking about.  

Tuesday the 18th was one of those days for me. Everything I thought I would do that day was not done, and that is awesome. 

Morning in my head- I will go to the private high school and join geography class to prepare for my world map project. 

Morning in reality- "Social science teacher had her baby yesterday. Come back on Thursday for English Class." Cool. Guess I'll go get ready for this afternoon's self esteem workshop and eat lunch with the fam. Wrong. Call from Matt. Would I like to have lunch in Ascope with him and his municipality friends who happen to be in Ascope today? Sure. Can't say no to local friends from a muni. And I got some free ceviche out of the deal. Alright. 

Afternoon in my head- Self esteem workshop with the school psychologist and a bunch of my teen friends. I pictured a lecture and my little friends texting, talking, and spacing out. 

Afternoon in reality- Awesome work by the psychologist and full participation in the activity I planned. The kids got into it and my activity worked really well for the focus of the chat. This was a ton of fun and a great way to get to know the students on a more personal level. This day is turning out to be really great. 

Evening in my head- Rest. Coming down with a cold. Maybe I'll blog or read. In any case, I'll lay low. Ha. No you won't. 

Evening in reality- Host fam asked me if I wanted to go to a procession. I had noticed balloons everywhere in town earlier and was curious, so I tagged along. Little did I know, I would actually be in the procession. First we sat in church for about 30 minutes of silence. Sidenote- Piere waited outside because he doesn't like churches. He's 6. Then we all convened between the statue of el Señor de los Milagros and the marching band and began our trek. A few blocks in, a lady with candles skipped over me when passing them out to everyone. When my host mom asked her to give me one, she took one look at me and said something to the extent of, "She will burn." Ahhh, ok. I thought at least I'd get a balloon like the kids, but no luck there either.  Candle or not, it was still enjoyable. Though walking next to a trumpet and right behind the incense lady probably wasn't the best thing for my head cold, I didn't mind so much. The fact that I was walking around town in a vigil light parade was enough to keep my mind off of being sick. 

I like surprises. I like random things. I love my life right now. 

In the moto taxi with the host bros on our way to the procession.

I look ridiculous in this picture... but it's still fun. 

Beaches

Weekend of October 14-16, 2011

Friday: Puerto Malabrigo- Home to the longest wave in the world. 

Saturday: Huanchaco- Charming little surf town? Yes please. 

Sunday: Pacasmayo- Another surfing hotspot. Incidentally where I happen to watch football ;)

Just by happenstance, I found myself on three beaches in three days. Friday took me to my friend Erin's site about an hour from mine to help her with a dental project in which we gave fluoride treatments to her high school students. Conveniently, she pretty much lives right on the beach so I hung around her beautiful site for the afternoon, after eating some fresh ceviche, of course. 

Saturday we had our regional meeting in Trujillo and stayed in Huanchaco for the night, which was the perfect opportunity for some Peru 17 La Libertad crew bonding. 

Sunday was football day, so naturally I had to go to Pacasmayo for some NFL on the beach ;)

Rough life here in Peru : p 

Epic Race Fail.

Ladies and gentleman, I am about to tell you about an epic race fail. 

As a runner, I have a list of achievements I would like to realize...and then I have a list of things I actually do. So far the 'done' list includes a marathon, a few halves, a pile of other random races, an autumn half with Joe pacing me, a couple out of state races, a race with a first time racer, a winter road race in snowy awful weather (which is actually the only race I have placed in, ironically), and a race in which I ran 3 miles as a milkshake wearing a laundry basket from the waist up (best race payoff so far, 75 bones in prize money... in the costume division). So, when I was asked to run a race in Peru as an 'international contestant,' I thought, 'Sure. Why not add something to the list? An international race. This could be fun, right?' Wrong. Little did I know that after this race, not only could I add 'international race' to my list of accomplishments, but I would also be able to add 'last place finish.' 

Let's start at the beginning. It's mid August and I am awkwardly sitting in the municipality building of my new town during my visit to Ascope, before moving here. This enthusiastic man seeks me out and begs me to commit to running a 15K race on October 9th. At that point, I didn't know who was from where, who I needed to impress, and who would be my friend. My theory was simply to say yes to anything that wasn't inappropriate. So of course I agreed to this. I like races. I can run 9 miles. No big deal. 

About a month later, this same man shows up in my town for a second time looking for me. He is from a neighboring town (Magdalena de Cao) that is holding a festival the weekend of October 7th-9th and wants to know that I am going to run his race. Because he showed up unannounced and did not have a meeting with me or my municipality counterpart, he could not find me. This means that I got a call from a very angry man who had been riding around in a moto taxi looking for me for about an hour until he got ahold of my counterpart who gave him my number. Luckily, I was near the plaza when he called and I could pop over to meet him. Despite his anger at me for not showing up to a meeting I didn't have with him, he was very kind... almost too kind. The kind of kind that someone is when they want something. It took me about 47 seconds to realize what he was up to. He had advertised this race online and all over the province as an international race. Now he needed someone from another nation to show up and make his ads true. Ok, I can handle this. All I have to do is run a race. I can do that with my own motivation, no one else's. I promised him again that I would be there on the 9th and wouldn't bail. I also agreed to asking my Gringo friends to join me, even though I knew I'd be alone in this endeavor... which I was. 

That night I returned home and shared the story of this encounter with my host family. To my surprise, they were shocked to hear that I would agree to physical activity the day after my birthday. Because I hadn't had any birthday plans other than this race, I was confused. It was then that they explained that they were planning to have a party for me on the 8th and that I wouldn't be able to run the next day after what they had in mind. Birthday celebrating had been rumored, but now that I knew it was a go and I had committed to 9 miles the following day, I was starting to get concerned.

So we find ourselves on the day of my 26th birthday. It began early and was magical from the beginning to the time the sun set. Six of my good friends here came to celebrate with me and the host family... and celebrate we did- for eight hours. I knew I should have taken it slow, but hey, it was my birthday! 

Sunday morning, 6am: race day. I woke up with a horrible ache coming from my foot telling me from my waking hour that a race was a bad idea. Do I ever listen to those thoughts? No. I rolled out of bed feeling my recently acquired old age catching up to me. Thanks to Joe, I snacked on a delicious Luna bar for a race day breakfast, then headed off to Chocope (neighboring town where the race began) with my little host bro Farid. Before taking off though, I had an encounter with my aching foot and realized the pain was coming from my baby toe which was about twice it's normal size and very very purple. I taped it up and fought with it long enough to wriggle it into my shoe, then I threw down some ibuprofen and hoped it wouldn't cause me too much trouble. Wishful thinking. 

After arriving in Chocope and getting my free t-shirt (which is actually a giant tank top and kind of awesome), the rest of the host family showed up and we waited the typical hour past the scheduled start time for things to get going. The family asked me why I was limping, and I explained that my friend had stepped on it yesterday while we were attempting some fancy dancing. They thought nothing of it until later that day when they saw it. I pretended it didn't hurt, when really I wanted to curl into a ball and leave my foot with no weight to bear for the rest of the day. But hey, we had a race to run. 

So we remain in the plaza for awhile, waiting for the race to begin. Here's where the fun happens. Apparently, when you're an outsider running in an international race, you must have not one but two radio interviews and your blood pressure must be taken. The blood pressure reading was the second voice from my body screaming "Nooo!" to the thought of a 9 mile race. Again, I ignore such things. 

At this point, my host family for some reason thought I was going to win this thing. And here's how I knew I wasn't: Lunar racers and Kinvaras. Such quality race shoes are not worn by mediocre hobby runners, especially not in Peru. Slowly, I saw them trickling in: serious runners. I could see it in there shoes, their chiseled legs, and in the way they were eyeing each other up. I've been to enough races with a certain serious runner myself (ahem, Joe Kotlowski) to know what they do and wear on race day when they are out to win. Crap. I don't know why I hadn't thought of this before. The top prize for this thing was S/. 1,000 cash, with lucrative individual age group prizes as well. Chocope isn't too far from Trujillo, where running clubs are popular right now, and 15K is not a distance that a non-runner would likely take on. I was doomed and I knew it. 

It was around that time when my host mom informed me that she would be riding in the press truck to take pictures of me, as she knew I'd be in the front. When I asked how she got permission to do so, she explained that she had told them I had a medical condition and it was likely that I would faint, so she had to ride in the press truck with my medication and a bottle of water. Things just kept getting better. So that's why there were 2 nurses taking my blood pressure, taking notes, and whispering about me. Awesome. 

Race finally begins. Little bro Piere shouts some good luck wishes from the press truck and Maggie waves goodbye as they speed off not to be seen again until the finish line. We take off and I am quickly in the back of the pack. Everyone shot off at a pace that I was sure they wouldn't be able to keep, so I figured I'd just catch them later. Ha. Later, like at the post race event when they all get to watch me finish. 

Mile one and I am keeping pace with a man with magenta shorts. He's a running chatter, which I am not. The conversation begins with "Where are you from?" and so on and ends with "I'm single, but you can have me if you want me." Ah, yeah. I fake being out of breath and slow way down to shake him, but he slows down too. Crap. I explain that I can't run and speak Spanish at the same time, 'can't' in this situation meaning I prefer not to, but hey, some things just get lost in translation. I lose Pink Shorts and there I am, alone. I turn around to see what will be my race companion, the ambulance. That's not foreboding at all. 

So there I am, in the desert, dehydrated, on a really crappy broken up blacktop highway and a possibly broken toe for the next hour and a half. Worst race ever. I wanted to quit about every 30 seconds, but I did not. 

Mile three and Pink Short's new running mate drops out and hops into the ambulance. Well, at least I beat that guy. 

Mile three and a half and the ambulance pulls up to give me a wet piece of gauze to put on my head, 'so I don't faint.' Hmm. Fainting. That's a crazy idea. I wonder why they think I would faint? I take advantage of my undeserved special treatment, soak my sweaty head, and thank my new ambulancia amigos. Onward. 

Mile five. Where the hell are the water stations? We're in the freaking desert and my friend the race coordinator promised water stations. Not even any free chicha? I would take Inca Cola at this point. Uggghhh. 

Mile six. Still no hydration. What kind of race is this? Why didn't I drink more water last night? I might faint after all. Thank God there is an ambulance behind me. 

Mile seven. Water! ...in plastic bags? Whatever. What did I expect, cups? Ha. I nearly tackle the first small child I see with a water sack. I think she cried after I stormed through her little camp. Sorry kid, the water bag is the only thing on my mind right now. Immediately, I rip this little guy open and pour it on my face, mouth agape, just in time to see the photographers zooming in on the gringa in last place. Wonderful. I hope that diversity shot suffices for their ads next year for an international race. I swallow almost the entire bag and ration out the rest over the next half mile. Things are looking up. 

Mile eight. I am resigned to finishing last, and that's ok. I can still see a bunch of people, but I can't catch them. This isn't so bad. Pretty spring day. Sugar fields. Nice tunes on the iPod. This is alright. 

Mile eight and a half. Almost there. Best part of the race. Right around here, my host dad and host brother were waiting for me with a bottle of water. Thank you! They clapped and laughed with me about being in last place and it was a nice moment. Shortly after that I got a nice little morale boost from Girl Talk (All Day- track 2, "Let It Out") and couldn't help but throw the arms up and bust some dance moves. My friends in the ambulance apparently enjoyed this as much as I did, because they also brought out a few moves, then flipped on the siren and the lights to join in my dance party. Can't say I've danced with an ambulance before. First time for everything. 

Mile nine. Done. We finish this thing off by running through a marching band and around the plaza. I am greeted by my race director friend and my host mom at the finish line. Everyone cheers and I find the first hard surface I can reach to get off of my aching foot. The moment I sit down, the race director is announcing me to the crowd and explaining Peace Corps, etc. Before I know it, I am getting a standing ovation and Piere is shooting me in the eye with a dart gun. Good thing I was wearing my ridiculous sunglasses. Whirlwind. And it's over. And that is ok. 

After chugging two bottles of water and finally feeling like I am not going to fall over, I check my Garmin and learn that I managed to keep a 9:56 pace. Sure, I finished last, but all things considered, keeping it under a 10 minute pace with a defunct toe, dehydration, and the desert sun isn't really all that awful. I can still hold my head high, sort of. 

We stick around for the awards and I learn that the winners are legitimately fast and have traveled from other departments for the cash prizes. I picked up another free 8x10 portrait of the Virgin de Rosario (who is forever in my heart, according to my new shirt), we enjoy some delicious ceviche for lunch, and then we bounce. Chao, Magdalena de Cao. Be back soon. On the drive back, as we bob along the crappy road and the other passengers whine about how the road needs to be fixed, I delight in my accomplishment while sharing some iPod treats with Piere. I couldn't have imagined race conditions much worse, but I didn't quit. That in itself deserves a spot on my race 'done' list. And on top of that, having a host family who came to support me and who shared this with me is something that I will always remember and something to be very happy about. Last place finish or not, I am really glad I did this and am proud of my run and the people I shared it with. Hey, not everyone can say they were followed by a Peruvian ambulance in the desert for an hour and a half ;) 

One last thing: the toe. While I toughed it out for the race, running on it was a VERY bad idea and has kept me out of my running shoes for the past month. This is a big downer, but my toe literally does not fit into normal shoes without a lot of pain. Worry not, I did see a doctor, which didn't make me feel like a baby at all (sarcasm intended). It's not broken and will just take some time to heal. Lesson learned. Purple toes will lead to bad painful races. 

So there you have it. The newest notch on my running belt. It took me awhile to come to terms with this, so that is why the blog has been barren for a couple weeks. Sorry for the delay. Thanks for reading along. 

When your toe looks like this, don't run a 9 mile race. 

Editor's note: The reason you are stuck with this nasty picture is because it is the oly one I have from that day. Sadly, the host family's camera was either lost or stolen sometime after the race. All of the pictures they have of my birthday party and the race, good and awful, were unfortunately lost. We're not having much luck in the camera department in this household these days...

SLACK ATTACK: Ode to a Peace Corps Bestie

I like to think that good friendships make themselves. My best and favorite relationships have surprised me. Such is the case with one of my dear Peru 17 BFF's, the one and only, Amanda Slack. Slack gets her own blog post because she is mentioned frequently in my little corner of the interweb here and it is about time I share with you why she comes up so much. Partly it's because we spend a lot of time together; but mostly, it's because she is the perfect combination of awesome and strange. Strange things happen to strange people, and the same can be said for awesome. So here you have it, the ballad of Amandita.

June 9th: Staging: An awkward and emotionally draining day. After making it through the paperwork, I landed at a table of people I didn't know with the very enthusiastic staging lady pushing an activity form at me telling me to go around and get to know people with this lame 'get to know you' game. She walked away and I said, to no one in particular, "What if I don't want to get to know people right now?" In the 3 seconds between saying this and grabbing my phone to take advantage of my last day of ATT service to text Joe, I noticed out of the corner of my eye this girl across the table cracking up and smiling at me. Hmm. Is she laughing at me? I think so. I put her on the list of friend potentials and kept an eye on her for the next few days. 

Jump to host family match ups in the lawn of the Santa Eulalia training center. Names were called and we were matched up with our training host families. While patiently and anxiously waiting to get my family, I remember noticing an interesting event. There are 3 Amandas in Peru 17. The training staff member who was reading off our names and giving us our living assignments was only reading first names. When 'Amanda' was called, the girl from staging that had sparked my curiosity took the assignment without hesitation and I didn't recall a last name being specified. I thought this was a little weird, and had a flash of a thought to ask what last name they meant, but hey, I'm not an Amanda. This was none of my business. Little did I know, I was letting a miracle happen right there. What had happened is that Amanda Slack went home with the family that was meant for Amanda McCullough... in a neighborhood for more advanced Spanish speakers, which, at the time, Amanda Slack was not.

So there we are in Yanacoto, Amanda Slack, myself, and 5 others. Night one of our Yanacoto life and we were all at the soccer court getting to know the locals. At this point, Amanda's Spanish was a series of nods, "Siii!" and "¿Cuantos años tienes?" So on that first night, when a strapping young chap approached her and (unbeknownst to us) fell in love at first sight, Slack simply nodded and agreed with everything he had to say. This deep and intimate conversation led to what Brice Corts so appropriately described as Love in Yanacoto. What does that entail? See photo here: 

If a giant mural in itself hadn't raised her to celeb status in Yanacoto, her charm and charisma would have. You see, Amanda has the ability to make any Peruvian she talks to fall in love with her immediately. I think it's a mix of her humility and awkwardly lovable persona. The mural wasn't her only Yanacoto legacy. She also left that place with a  godchild and a host family ready to make the 8 hour trip to visit her as soon as they can. 

Anyway, it took just a few days for us to realize the Amanda mix up in Yanacoto, and when we did, there was no way we were going to give our Amanda up to another neighborhood. In less than a week from meeting her, she had gone from friend potential to the top of the friends list. During training, we shared many combi rides (some good, some not so good), daily walks up/ down the beast of a hill that is Yanacoto, random nights, random days, lots of chisme, awkward Spanish mix ups, and plenty of Snacks. In the days leading up to site assignments, it was sad to think that we might not end up in the same place, so I tried not to think about it. 

But then by another Peace Corps miracle, on site assignment day, we found ourselves in the same group headed to La Libertad. I couldn't have been happier. What does it mean to have one of your favorite Peace Corps cohorts from training in your department? It means random texts like, "Um, I just got invited to a naked beach. Like seriously, what is going on?" or delightful facebook messages, like, "my fams gone and im alone and i tried to do laundry and it exploded everywhere. so freaked out. like i dunno. i went outside and was hanging up my clothes and i came back to a lake. i don't know and don't wanna know but cant hide it. the whole town probs knows cuz neighbor saw. like freak out more. but call me tonight. love you. cracking up." or phone calls like, "sooo... my host fam just came in the bathroom while I was showering... and they asked about my earrings while i was standing there naked. Oh and by the way, they call security every time I leave the house, no wonder why all the security guards are always saying "Hola Amandita" like, seriously?" or late night cab rides when she asks the driver for a bedtime story... "¿sabes Goodnight Moon?" I could go on forever. This also means that she has to put up with texts and calls from me like, "Uh... I think I am getting kidnapped tomorrow." or "Damn it. I wish I had explosive diarrhea right now." She always knows what to say and these things are not weird at all. I love it. 

Living just a few hours from Slack is one of the best parts of my Peace Corps life so far. Not only am I constantly entertained by her adventures and hilarious story telling abilities, but I am also inspired by the way she just jumps in and talks to anyone, anytime, in any variety of Spanish possible. I clam up so often when speaking Spanish that I admire her fearless attitude and confidence. The improvement in her Spanish from that first night in Yanacoto to now is so immense and impressive that I can't even explain it. 

So here's to you Amandita. Thanks for being an inspiration, a constant source of entertainment, and the best wingman I could have asked for. Stay awesome. 

Yanacoto: The Early Days 

                                                Baptizing a child. She's kind of a big deal.

                                                     Hike in Yanacoto with my new friend.

                                                                 Charm.

Style.

Grace. 

Peruvians love this girl. 

...I mean, LOVE this girl. 

...and so do I :) 

26!

When I first came to Peru and had a thought about turning 26, I imagined it as a sort of quiet and unremarkable milestone. As with most things in Peace Corps Peru, what I imagined was the opposite of what I got. As mentioned in my previous post, my host family and friends here are an amazing group of people and I am very lucky to have had them all here in Ascope to celebrate with me on my birthday. Lucky for me, not only is my birthday a holiday here- but it also fell on a Saturday this year. This meant a full day of celebrating. All of my fellow Peru 17ers in La Libertad, Slack, Nicole, Sue Song, and Alex made the trip to Ascope as well as our Peru 14 'big brothers' Matt and Brian. The fact that they all spent the morning on a bus just to come to Ascope in itself makes me so happy. On top of that though, they brought their party pants and present bags (one of the bags is even Hannah Montana, oh Peru)  filled with nail polish, fun jewelry, and of course, SNACKS! We had a great day filled with food, drinks, dancing, snacks, and (my favorite part) a Hello Kitty piñata. I'll let the pictures do the talking, though I should explain a few of them.

Matt, better known as Mateo in these parts, is tall. Peruvians are short. Piere wanted to smash my face in my cake, as is tradition here. When I had pointed out earlier in the week that he wouldn't be able to reach my face to smash cake into it, he snapped back by saying that he would just ask Mateo if he could sit on his shoulders... that way he wouldn't have any problem reaching. I can't believe this kid is only 6 sometimes. Of course Matt was barely in the house before Piere was whispering in his ear to solicit his height and mutual mischief. So, I figured I would just let it happen. No use fighting it. Here you have what ensued... 

I think they were afraid I would run away...

And there it is.

Fudge and caramel do not belong in your nose, hair, or eyelashes. Just sayin' 

Hora Loca featuring... Amanda Slack!!!

Pals :)

Treats!!! 

Hello Brian? 

I also want to mention how GREAT it was to talk my family that day. They were all together for little Cora's baptism, so I was able to talk to them that night, which was the best present I could have asked for. Thanks Joe for all the calls that day and for filling my spot at the baptism, you're the best! Thanks to everyone else for the emails and facebook posts. 26 was a great birthday and better than I could have imagined. I am a very lucky girl. Love you all, thanks for being awesome! 

Birthday Mail! Birthday Mail! Birthday Mail!

Thursday 

October 6th

Birthday Mail! 

The week leading up to my birthday was rather slow and strange. Stress was coming from places I didn't expect it, like random rumors around the neighborhood, a short lull in projects, a seemingly infinite and forever frustrating process of setting up internet in my room, etc. So by the time Thursday rolled around, I decided to take a quick trip into Trujillo for some random errands, one of them to pop into the post office and check for rumored birthday mail. This turned out to be a wonderful day that was a break I needed more than I had thought. Not only because I was able to learn more about the city and get oriented a bit better, but mostly due to the fact that I was pleasantly surprised with a bundle of fantastic birthday mail! I have the best collection of people in my life that a girl could ask for. Thank you to Sara Stremikis and Joe Kotlowski for brightening my week just when I needed it that day. The pictures below display my birthday schwag (to steal a Joe phrase ;) If you look real close you can see that the peanut butter pumpkin didn't make it home to be photographed, but I did keep the wrapper for photographic purposes. 

After discovering and aprovecharing this gem of a treat, I headed to the mall for a pizza hut lunch and a chill Trujillo afternoon with my friend Matt. Upon returning home, I couldn't help but think about how incredibly lucky I am. In the Peace Corps, and just life in general. I ended up in a beautiful country in a site that I love that sits within two hours from American comforts if (more realistically, when) I need them. I have a host family who, just in that week, had learned how to make tofu for me, helped me set up internet in my room, and was planning a birthday party for me. I have friends here like Matt who can tell when I need a day away, and like Brian, Slack, Sue, and Nicole who are always there to talk and know exactly what to say and what I'm going through. On top of all of this, I have the never ending unconditional love of everyone back home that is more appreciated than I can explain. To not only be remembered on my birthday, but to get packages too?!? I am so loved. And when I say loved, I mean spoiled. 

Sara, I was really wanting a new shirt. Can't explain it, but sometimes a Target shirt is an easy treat that can really pick a girl up. Thanks for that :) Also, the sticky Halloween set that you sent was a big hit with the host brothers. Farid put a bat in his school notebook and Piere was begging me to put the rest on the window. The picture below shows it when it still looked nice. Currently, the Trick or Treat says "Korticat" and the castle is ripped. When I asked little man what happened, he said "it must have been the green bat." uh-huh. 

Joe, everything you sent, keep it coming :) Peanut butter M&M's and new music all in one?!?! Lucky girl :) Oh, and that Luna bar came in real handy on the morning of my 9 mile race... more on that coming soon. That damn race deserves it's own entry... more later. Thanks for stopping by :)

Joe Package!!!

Sara Strem Package! 

Window Fun! 

Football Sunday Success!!!

Sunday October 2nd: Brenda and Craig's 1st anniversary, and lil host bro Peire's birthday. Big day. A magical day if you will... it was on this day that I was finally able to spend an entire afternoon watching American football...in a bar, on a beach. Wonderful, beautiful day.

And when I came home, Piere had saved a piece of the cake they had for him at lunch. I had spent the day prior in Trujillo with him at an arcade to celebrate appropriately, so it wasn't a big deal that I missed the cake. But the fact that he personally saved me a piece was really cute. His birthday Saturday was so much fun. I may or may not have beaten him in air hockey once or twice... don't judge, I tried to let him win, it just wasn't working out for him.

Sweet delicious birthday cake.