It looks like that the last big event to be held in my apartment before I move permanently to the Sharpmans’ pool house will have been Keaton’s 34th birthday party, not that it was much of a party this year, what with, well, y’all know what’s the excuse for everything…
It was just me, Keaton, a shit ton of wings from Wingstop, some craft beers (Keaton: “you got gayass beer for my birthday on purpose, didn’t you, bubba?”) and a Baskin Robbins cake.
No pranks, no embarrassing him in public, no little doggies…just me and him being super chill. He even said that, if this was how I was gonna celebrate his birthday, maybe birthdays aren’t so gay after all. The one thing I was gonna do was make Penner Punches, but we both agree they’re totally groassass and I didn’t want to buy a bottle of vodka I was gonna have to get rid of before I moved.
(I reckon I could have taken it with me to the pool house, but there’s already a bar there that’s way too well stocked for my needs. Besides, I don’t think it’d look too good when someone who’s going to help take care of your kids moves in with a bunch of liquor bottles.)
It was actually a little sad, since this was the last thing me and Keaton would do as neighbors. I know I’m allowed to have guests over at the pool house, Keaton’s obviously keeping his apartment, and it’s maybe a 15 minute drive from one place to the other, but it’s not gonna be the same thing as living next door.
I did get Keaton a present. (He doesn’t hate presents as much as he lets on: he really liked his messenger bag from last year and his hair’s looked a little less messy since he started using my ‘if you can comb it, you can cut it’ hair clipper Christmas present.) Since that clipper went over so well, I got him something else off the TV, the shaver that they say you can use underwater. I know he’s got a beard, but he actually has been complaining about how he doesn’t get a close enough shave around the edges. Hey…if they were right about the one thing on the TV, maybe they’re right about the other one, too.
After the ways we’ve celebrated Keaton’s birthday – in spite of him – this year really felt like an anticlimax. Maybe we could have done more if I’d thought a little harder, but everyone’s just so dang tired of COVID that there’d probably not have been a whole lot of interest in another zoom party. Besides, playing pictionary on our computer screens isn’t what the Parrots need. What we need is to get out on the field and kick some Kung Pao ass.
So Keaton got a totally chill birthday. He did make a wish and blow out all 35 candles at once, so we know his wish is gonna come true. Even if you were allowed to tell people what your birthday wish was, Keaton would be the last person to tell what his was, of course.
Since I had more than just a couple beers with my mango habanero wings, I spent the night at the apartment. Since the bubble ended, I’ve been going back and forth from the apartment to the pool house, but it was pretty obvious that this is gonna be the last night I’m spending here. Keaton and I are going to check out the Uhaul place in the morning and get boxes so I can start packing. So I’m feeling kinda weird as I’m writing this. I know I’ve spent way more nights at the pool house than in my own apartment since the bubble started (I may have spent more nights at Joyce’s than I’ve spent here), but this place still feels like home; it’s the only home I’ve ever had here in California.
Oh well…all good things come to an end. And let’s face it, I’m moving someplace pretty awesome. I reckon I’ll have another beer and it’ll help me get to sleep. No sense sitting here and making myself and y’all sad when there’s nothing to be sad about. I talked to Meemaw about this a couple nights ago, and she said something that seems very wise to me right now: change isn’t good, change isn’t bad…change is just change…and the good or bad is what you make of it.
Meemaw’s probably right. She usually is.
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