Happy Birthday to my sweetest friend,

Did you know that your name means bitter?

I was looking for a segue, or something interesting to post about your name, or perhaps our history together, but found myself struggling with too many memories to count and no words that can adequately express my love, admiration, and appreciation for you.

Then I found out your name meant bitter, and really, of all the people I know who embody bitterness this is both the most paradoxical and fitting description of you I've ever come across.

In many ways you remind me of a child, with eyes full of wonder and awe. I'm fascinated by your belief in the good of people, your endless ability to reach out to someone who's hurt you, and your gentle vulnerability.

"That assbag just cut me off! Motherfucker!"

And then, with words like that, driving and talking on the phone (hands-free, of course) while sipping your Starbucks Frappuccino, I remember your zany Berkeley edge. You are networked to an entire community that spans oceans and time and strange Jewish camps. (Keetov, I believe?)

There are things about you I will never understand, like your love of condiments -- as dinner. And then, there are things that I will always love and get, like holding "handed" hands.

You understand me better than I deserve, I think, and I love you for it.

Thank you for reminding me that today was your birthday because you know I'm so bad about these things, which doesn't in any way diminish my love for you.

I love you.

J