Dear Grapevine

IN MAY, I moved to south Philadelphia. August 22, I was planning to celebrate 28 years of sobriety by telling my story at my meeting. I saw it as an opportunity to get better acquainted. I wanted to make a good impression, so I ordered a big, beautiful cake. Imagine my surprise when, as the cake was being cut, someone said, "I smell rum!" Sure enough, the bottom layer was soaked with rum. The bakery hadn't told me! Of course we were all shocked . . . me the most. And then came the laughter. I recognized my HP's humor in this. Once again, he brought my ego down to right size as only he can.