Hey, remember my eggbeater? Can I have it back?
Today was Michael's birthday. He turned the big quarter century mark.
Michael is one of my greatest and oldest friends. We've known each other since he was born.
Together, we've lived days good, bad, hard, fun and itchy.
Michael and his family lived in the country. Once, when my brother and I went out for a sleepover, we all decided to walk through the "canyon." It had recently rained so the canyon was muddy and full of mosquitos.
Michael, his brother Matt, sister Lindsay, Marcus and I were being eaten alive by the giant mosquitos. I decided I had read somewhere that if you covered yourself with mud, the mosquitos wouldn't be able to detect you.
Obviously I had confused mosquitos with the Predator and not only did the pests continue to feast upon us, Michael's mother also nearly had a heart attack when she saw us, muddy and swollen, trying to walk into her clean house.
Michael has been there for me whenver I need him. He always lets me ramble on and on, sometimes incoherently, about everything from politics to dreams to any troubles I may have. I can only hope I've been half as good a friend to him.
I bake a mean pie!
We had a BBQ on Saturday night to celebrate Michael's birthday. I baked a pecan pie, Michael's favorite, and topped it with birthday candles. I baked it from scratch, I swear!
It was quite a fest! There was enough food to feed . . . well, a lot more people than were at the party! There was a little dancing and a lot of singing. A little Anna yelling instructions to people standing right beside her and so a lot of me yelling instructions to people standing right beside me. A little bocce ball, a lot of frisbee, including smashing the dog point-blank in the face with the frisbee. There was a lot of fun and probably even more zaniness!
Zaniness? Well, more like complete insanity. Michael got his own "band" together to sing along with The Violent Femmes.
Raw chained me up with the dog's leash. The result was me breaking free and tearing through the house, knocking things over as she chased me as if I were a loose dog.
Yeah. We're quite a bunch.
The evening ended with not one, but three rousing renditions of Happy Birthday; traditional, "You Look Like a Monkey" style and even en Espanol!
Happy Birthday, my dear Phredd!