Last night I was telling my writing compadres about how much Wednesdays kick my ass. “I do so much on Wednesday with the Tibbles that by the time eight o’clock rolls around I am pretty sure it’s Thursday.”

But not today. Well not in the sense that I think it’s Thursday. My ass was kicked, make no doubt about that, but I know that it’s still Wednesday because today is the 18th and that means it’s my much-adored Peabo’s birthday.

I could list a zillion reasons about why I love Peabo and lucky to have her as a friend, not the least of which would be the fact that she changes out of her pajamas for me; she is smart, sassy, and not afraid to tell me to go to hell when I need it; she said irregardless once; and she is beautiful and graceful and kind.

On the kindness, it reminds me of one night we were going to Grumpy’s after class. Peabo had to move her car and was just going to go park in the Grumpy’s lot. However, there was a Twins game going on and that means you have to pay to park there. Peabo was grouchy with the attendant and drove off in search of a non-ridiculously priced parking spot. Once she finally made it to Grumpy’s, Peabo had so much guilt that she actually wanted to go find the parking attendant and apologize.

And last night I learned that despite the fact that we rarely share the same taste in books or music we both share a dislike of cilantro, which totally explains why we are friends. Apparently, according to Amanda-Who-Is-Demanding-a-Nickname, people who do not like cilantro have some sort of enzyme defect. Peabo and I both have it.

Happy Birthday my friend.