Two score and eight years ago (plus four days), a baby boy was born. He was no doubt an adorable thing, but I wouldn't know, as I was under a year old myself and still doodooing the diapers at every chance I got.
As this child grew into a lad, raised by a houseful of women, he view of the world was molded by them into something quirky and deliciously different - for a boy at any rate.
As a teenager, he blossomed and as a young adult he traveled the world for over a year, discovering along the way that people are people and hell if they don't all like to party and drink copious amounts of beer.
Several years later we met. It wasn't love at first sight, not by a long shot as we were both with other people at the time. But a few years later, things dropped into place and I've had the daily pleasure of his company ever since.
Without him life would be grayer, duller and a whole lot less funny.
And I'd be way less well fed - which, might not be a bad thing, all things considered. Although it would surely be a much less healthy thing, considering what I'd be eating if I had to feed myself... but I digress.
Happy belated B-day post Mr. Jazz. I love you more than I can say - I'd have to invent a whole new language.