I moved (again) a couple of months ago.

Part of the move was dedicated to me gathering up anything that I had not looked at or used in the past several moves.

In fact, there were a few boxes that I needed to look at the date on the newspaper I used to wrap some items in to see when I had packed the stuff.

So I got rid of a TON of crap- a bunch of it sold on Craigslist, a bunch of it I gave to the Goodwill, another pile went to the curb for the neighborhood to take care of and the remainder went into big garbage bags and off to the dump.

The part of the downsizing that I was looking forward to the least, however, was the mandatory t-shirt reduction.

31 Flavors had offered to help me with this portion of the move- reminding me how practical she is when it comes to this kind of thing. (I couldn’t help but remind her about the four dressers full of stuff that I helped move into her new place not long before my move)

I agreed that I did, in fact, have WAY too many t-shirts and submitted to the notion that I would need to lighten my load and bid farewell to some of my favorite and most comfortable- albeit beat up and ratty- t-shirts.

Old Corona promos, radio station gear, band swag, apparently outdated Stussy rags and stagehand shirts all made it into the Goodwill pile- and then we got to my concert tee’s.

How DARE she insist that my Allman Brothers “Peakin’ At The Beacon” tie-dye was too beat up to wear any more.

The GALL of this girl- implying that my orange EZ-Wider shirt that I got from sending in three proofs of purchase from rolling papers was not proper attire for a thirty-two year old professional man.

The NERVE of this chick- telling me that Lollapalooza 95 was WAY too long ago to even wear around the house.

I fought it hard, man. I kicked and I screamed- but ultimately, it was one of those arguments that every guy goes through with his girl at some point in the relationship and I had to give in.

But not, of course, without compromise.

She begged told insisted promised me that my favorite old concert and other miscellaneous t-shirts would be put to good use and that the ones that I felt the strongest bond to should be put in a separate pile- and given to her for safe keeping.

Wiping the tear from my eye, I reluctantly laid to rest some of my favorite duds of all time- all in the name of love- and handed over what had become extra layers of my skin from the past fifteen years.

Skip ahead a couple of months and I awoke on my birthday morning last Friday anxious for the day ahead of me. Thirty two isn’t quite a milestone, so I planned on just another day in paradise.

Birthday card, pretty neat egg-toaster thing from the Food Network, dope ass little camcorder and…a neatly sewn QUILT comprised of my much-loved t-shirts from days of yore greeted me this past birthday.

And it could quite possibly be the coolest thing a girl has ever made for me.

Happy birthday? Indeed.