It has been one week since my last confession.
So much of my writing energy has been pouring into MamaPop lately, that I forgot about my own humble blog.
Today was the anniversary of the birth of my favorite person in the entire world. Rather than spend it with that person, the universe conspired against me when it cursed me with the insurmountable burden of having to work for a living. While he lazed about all day, I pretty much had every last one of my nerves grated into a fine, parmesan-like pile around my desk.
But it’s funny how quickly all of that goes away when I think fondly of my very favorite person. I bought groceries and last minute gifts on the way home and made Andrew’s birthday dinner requests of New York steak, roasted potatoes and a salad with roquefort vinaigrette. I bought a giant chocolate-and-almond-butter cupcake for dessert and candles to blow out.
My gifts were simple and will benefit us both—a Toddy cold-brewed coffee maker and a pound of locally-roasted Kenyan coffee—but Andrew still managed to seem excited, immediately leaping up to make his first batch of coffee to be ready by morning, while I finished preparing dinner.
It was a big departure from last year, when we threw a big Dress Like Andrew-themed surprise party and everyone showed up in homemade Dismemberment Plan shirts and fake mutton chops, but I have to say I preferred this year’s tame celebration. Call me selfish, but I like it best when I have him all to myself.
I am so glad my best friend Andrew was born 27 years ago today, and that I got to celebrate that occasion beside him on our couch, watching Family Guy DVDs and eating chocolate cupcakes and ice cream straight from the carton.