Thirty years ago God took a handful of clay and he made me a woman, and for that I thank him.

My dear Pike, a million poets working for a million years could describe but three eighths of your beauty. You are my very best friend and even in the very blurst of times you are a person of unmatched patience and kindness.

Today you're working like fourteen hours so it's not going to be the best birthday ever, but enjoy whatever scraps of free time you might scrounge and then, when your toil is complete, it shall be time for Nerever to arise and drive the n'wah from our lands!



I do so adore you, my Pike! Happy birthday