happy birthday miss bird

miss bird, girl o my dreams, sweet of my life, perhaps the most patient woman i will ever live with (aside from ruth) in part, because she held my hand so many times and even more, she kicked me in the cellulite that is my bum while also giggling and laughing at most of my jokes. (even when she would close her eyes on her couch and pretend that she was sleeping so she didn't have to deal with my prattle, i knew that she was secretly loving me and my rapier wit). i have sat with her and fielded questions about jesse helms + monica lewinsky while taking milky tea in a retired muslim headmaster's home in cape town, south africa. i have trundled around town on buses with her through roughly every demographic in the district before, during, and after gentrification. we have cursed neighbors, shined laser pointers, shoveled snow, trimmed trees, and trained for bi and triathlons. we have jumpstarted cars, careers, and christmas cards. we have contended with men including the good, the bad, and the just plain coarse. we have nibbled and imbibed and chewed over a million and one goodies at sizzlin express, etrusco, and camelot. we have savored operas and impromptu accordion concerts.

together.

when i was assaulted in vienna, it was miss bird i called. and she was totally and wonderfully reasonable with me even though ron and carol were sitting right next to her in their matching wind suits as she ferried them out to aunt jane's house.

she is my girl.

today is miss bird's birthday. she sets a new standard for what 28 looks like.

so accomplished. so clever. so stylish. so composed. so droll. so pragmatic. so hilarious. (i mean really, really hilarious.) she's my girl.

she is like a brand new pair of spanx...she will support you and help you become a better, firmer version of yourself.

i spoke with her tonight while i was taking jasmine on a postprandial stroll through our neighborhood. she too was with her boo, at a driving range, sucking down a miller lite beer that cost only $1.50. (the only way that could have been better, miss bird, is that ernesto could have cracked it open and poured it into a teacup like my mama.) anyway...they were hitting the golf balls around after a day of sky diving.

no joke: she went sky diving today. she is my hero.

i love you, girl. i am so glad your family made it out of that holler and launched you to the midatlantic.

happy birthday.