Ok, the minute Phillip told me that he had not had a birthday present in years, I knew I had to do something. His life was hard. That’s his story to tell, not mine. But, when he looked at me and said that he had not had a birthday present in years, I was forced to do something. You know how I am. Tenacious. Defender. Righter of wrongs!
So, we don’t have any money, so I got clever. Quite beautifully clever. My adoring guy needed a day to feel overwhelmed. And thanks to all of your birthday messages, we completed stage one. The world let him know he was loved. (And I can’t thank you enough for that. His goofy face beamed with light). I keep telling him he’s more adorable when those dimples shine, but….there you go. One day he’ll believe me. 😉
I set up a simple birthday celebration, since it was just the two of us. A great and simple birthday doo dah, to let him know that we were all involved.
So, first! Gifts, right? The first ones were obvious. He’s a big kid. A big freakin’ 8 year old smack dab in the middle of a HUGE 6 foot 3, 250 pound man. I bought him toys, fun things, little things he could build and enjoy, toss on the ground and watch roll, flick and earn points. But! There’s more to that. He’s a cook, so he’s always in need of bandanas. So, instead of wrapping his gifts with paper, I opted for bandanas and did a little furoshiki wrapping. (It’s an awesome form of Japanese wrapping with fabric. We watch a lot of NHK world, the Japanese version of PBS 🙂 ).
Then, fun time. Yeah, I got him marbles and some tiddly winks, and a robot he can build out of a can, but the best part was the bottle of Southern Comfort. Yay! We busted that bottle wide and had a great time. Oh, yeah. He’s long since gone to bed. I’m up writing. Just how we are. 🙂 The southern gothic in me.
But long before that, we ordered a pizza. Thanks to Giovanni (go, Macchia!), our dear Italian friend in the Netherlands, we had pizza. It fits, right? Big time pizza, thanks to Gio Macchia and his awesomeness.
And there you have it. One of the best birthdays ever celebrated. Just two semi redneck guys sitting back, eating pizza, drinking Southern Comfort, listening to Rob Zombie and having a great time telling stories.
He finally grabbed my hand just before he crashed and said, “This is the best birthday I’ve ever had….Look at all this. Bitch, I’m Madonna.”
I’m writing this now, watching him snore in the corner of the bed that’s supposed to be mine. Slobbering all over my pillow, taking up all my space with those tree trunk legs of his.
I can’t tell you how glad I am that he’s in my life. Best birthday ever.
This is the story of how I knit my way out of homelessness. To order an autographed copy of “Will Knit For Food” click here, or for a Limited Edition personalized, signed paperback copy with t-shirt, click here.
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