happy birthday, paul!!!

So, I'd like to wish Paul David Boerem a very, very happy birthday....31 years today, he is. ( I think that's how Yoda would say it.) I really, really love birthdays. Paul doesn't love them so much, and never has. I remember his mom telling me how he used to leave his own birthday parties.....a deep and complex soul, even at five years old. Even now, his fears of clowns and people dressed as animals is quite intense, and when that guy dressed as a cow approached him at Stew Leonards during our grocery trip of a couple weeks past, his discomfort and wariness was quite evident. I love birthdays enough for both of us, and I'm embarassed to say that not only can I not sleep on the night before my birthday, I frequently lie awake on the night before Paul's birthday, as well. (yep. The dorky-ness soars to new heights.) So, yesterday I decided to surprise Paul and take the day off of work, which is something I never do, since New York has brought out the workaholic in me.....so, I was totally, totally excited. It's a good thing Paul was working, so he couldn't see my gigantic goofy grin, which alternated with a slightly panicked expression when I thought about not being at work. Now, as I write this email, it is 10:00am, and I am not dressed. My hair is doing that weird fly-away thing, and I need to brush my teeth. I am yucky. I am at home and yucky, and that, my friends, is a beautiful thing. As I waited on the couch last night for Paul to get home, I thought about my favorite memories with him. I've got some good ones, but here's one of my favorites:

A few Christmases ago, we flew home to California to be with our families. We had both decided that our plane tickets would be our gifts to each other, and to our familes. This is the same year that my parents purchased a ping pong table for my family. I inherit my love of surprises and perfect presents from my mother, who was bound and determined to have everything just, just right. (as I type this, I miss my mom a whole lot)The ping pong table was being kept at a friend's house, the plan being to have it delivered on Christmas Eve when everyone was in bed asleep. On Christmas Eve, a couple of problems presented themselves:

1. My dad kind of forgot to arrange to have the table delivered. (as I type this, I miss my dad a whole lot)
2. Nobody really wanted to go to bed.

Number one elicited a really awesome response from Mom, who looked a little less than pleased, and number two presented a slight problem. How to have the table delivered if everyone was awake? After a couple of fruitless attempts to get everyone to go to bed, I came up with a plan. I would tell everyone that I had to go back to Paul's parent's house to get a present for him, and Dad was going to take me. Then, we would wait in the garage for the table. Everything worked like a charm. Dad and I waited in the garage, the table was delivered, and Mom looked really happy again, which made Dad really happy. Paul, however, did not look happy. Paul was sitting on the couch in his pajama shirt and jeans, with a baseball cap on, looking seriously disgruntled. I did that thing where I try to look all cute and alluring, and said something romantic like "hey, what's up?". This was met with stony silence, and since normally I'm the one who plays this part, I was a little confused. I mean, we hadn't discussed any such role reversal. I tried again, with a "hey, is something wrong?" and got more stony silence. Hmmmm. So, finally I pulled him aside and got him to talk. "You said we weren't going to get each other presents!!" he said, sounding really, really ticked. "Now I've got to go break into a jewelry store or something so I can get you a present because you love surprises and if I don't have one for you I'm going to be the worst husband in the world!!" This is the part where I started laughing hysterically, and loved him a whole lot. I explained to him our master plan, which relieved him of the problem of how to break into a jewelry store on Christmas Eve. One thing that I know about Paul, and have always known about Paul, is that he wants me to be happy. Even if it means busting into a jewelry store wearing a pajama shirt, jeans and a baseball cap. So, thanks Paul, for doing the laundry, and for watching old movies with me, and for Miss Mamie's mac and cheese, and for emailing me poetry, and for making me laugh, and for being such a greatgreatgreat guy. You're awesome!!