Birthday Boy

The town I grew up is very small. It is about two square miles of suburban homes, two elementary schools, a middle school, a high school and one shopping center. Until I turned sixteen and got my drivers license, the places my friends and I could go was seriously limited to whatever we in walking distance. This left us with three options. Our local grocery store, the local pizza place and Bagel Me. Since Bagel Me had smoothies and room for more than three people to sit, it always won out. Every Friday after school, my entire middle school made the three block trek in our awesome Cerro Villa Middle School uniforms to claim a booth or an outside table.

When we got to high school, Bagel Me wasn’t the cool hang out, but it did have the only smoothie in town. One afternoon my freshman year in high school, while waiting in line for my glazer bagel with cinnamon, I noticed a giant of a moy (man/boy) towering over me. Since I was painfully shy with strangers at this time in my life, I shocked even myself when I said to him “Wow, people like you make me feel really small.” Astounded at my own boldness, I grabbed my glazer and walked away.

Ten years later, Brett is one of my best friends. And guess what today is? It is his 25th birthday. We have stayed close through different schools and different parts of the state. We’ve stayed close through boyfriends and girlfriends and jobs and travel. Brett, I am honored to call you my friend.

So tonight, in Brett’s honor, we are having paella. Half because Brett loves chorizo and half because I really just wanted to make paella.

Happy quarter century old man.

Love and Beer Floats

P.S. When I get home I am going to attempt to find some sweet pics of Brett and me from high school dances.