I can’t say that I remember too much from my 5th birthday, but I can recall that cake and the basement of the house that sheltered me for my first 12 years.

Note the shag carpet. I remember that carpet like it was yesterday. I adore shag, I have a large shag area rug in my own house and if I had the room I would have more of them. I also remember the smell of the carpet. We had a poodle named Charlie for a very long time that preferred the texture of the carpet to the elements of the outdoors. Perhaps it was his own spiteful behavior; I think he knew that my Dad didn’t care for him too much. There were always small dried turds embedded in the fibers that I guess ma missed when cleaning up the last delivery. Nobody ever seemed to mind or if they did they didn’t vocalize it to us. We always had birthdays, football parties, holidays and general get-togethers in that basement and we always sat there, on the floor among the soiled shag, beer, cake or present in hand unaware of the matter beneath our feet and knees.

Now the cake, my mother was famous for this cake as it became the bona fide birthday cake for both my brother and I for a very long time. It was a zucchini cake with chocolate Cool Whip as the frosting. We were definitely Midwest and boy did we love this cake. My father grew the squash in the garden as did my uncles so there was always plenty of it around. That was probably how the cake came to be, lots of squash and nowhere to put it. I remember the labor involved. The zukes had to be grated and the pulp pressed to release the water inside the stringy flesh. It was hard to imagine watching ma elbow deep in zucchini guts that it would be transformed into a delectable chocolate cake that would be chock full of Hershey’s chocolate chips and topped with that light, airy cocoa topping that complimented the richness of the cake better than anything I have yet to taste.

Later in life I realized that that zucchini did more than just free up fridge space it gave the cake lasting moisture that kept it perfect for days long after the party. I also came to find that it benefited from a couple days in the fridge after it had time to sit much like a stew would be.

I cannot remember the last time I had the cake. I should’ve asked for it to be FedExed to California for my 30th. Oh well, there is always next year.

Peters_girl asked me to write a bit about P’town. I would be glad to; it is definitely one of my most favorite places on this Earth that I have been to so far. Here in Palm Springs there are a handful of people that I see that I used to see back East and we all miss that quaint little village on the tip of Massachusetts; especially around this time of year. By about mid September the tourist swell has subsided and the streets empty a bit, exposing those little shops that you forgot were there. The people that you saw and met at the townie mixers in May and June all of a sudden reappear and you ask them, “Where were you all summer?” They respond with the same question and you realize then that you were both here traveling the same path up and down the same street to go to work, but missed each other in the throng of strollers and bike goers.

By October it’s just the locals. You’re hanging out with your “new old friends”, connections are reinforced and friendships blossom unobstructed by jobs, rents and visitors. The air is crisp with the trees waving their leaves of fire above the pubs that all serve “the best” clam chowder. The sweatshirt that you bought in July at half price becomes your favorite item as the days get shorter and you can no longer ride your bike in the “Provincetown” tank top you got the same day.

This is the time where people start asking each other where they will be moving onto. The season is coming to a close and the shops have started to shorten their hours dramatically much to your inconvenience. The trees have lost most of their fiery fingers and have either dropped them to the ground or replaced them with a boring and uneventful brown. As you walk trying to find an open lunch spot you notice that your breath is visible. You wonder about that offer to wait tables in Ft. Lauderdale or whether you are going brave the elements of winter and collect unemployment.

I never was that brave. If I was going to be cold and suffer through winter I was doing it in the city with taxis, bars, my friends and snow plows. P’town was more than beautiful in the winter, don’t get me wrong. I visited it often to escape the congestion and pressure of the city. Unfortunately in winter, aside from the desolate beauty, the only thing flourishing in P’town is ice and alcoholism; a grand combination if not a bit depressing.

P’town was my first real home away from home. I grew up there and I met people there and they would soon become the most treasured people in my life. I fell in “love” there and I fell out again. I partied on the beach at night and relaxed in hammocks next to the black bottom pool during the day. It was there that I met guys from all over the world and now have a place to stay in virtually every state. After three summers working at the best spots in town I will always see somebody I know and chances are it was from those times, on the very tip of Massachusetts, the tiny town that Johnny calls home.

What better way to bring in the next third of my life than with somebody who has been there since day 1, my Mom.

She came out to spend my 30th with me. Aside from giving her a much needed break, I also set out to really do some special things with her. First was sushi with our really great friends Mike and Mitch. It was her first time and she was a little hesitant, but she has come very far and willingly obliged. I eased her in with California rolls and miso soup; that was a must. We also had tempura something followed by some more adventurous nigiri sushi. She liked it, she really did and I was happy to bring something new to her that she enjoyed.

The Sunday after my birthday we headed west to Santa Monica to meet up with my friend, Scott. Ma had never seen Venice Beach and being a Sunday I thought it was a most perfect time. Boy Wonder met us at a Cuban café called Café Mercedes and we chatted laughed and drank on the patio.

The stroll along the boardwalk was nothing to us, but really something to dear mom; her eyes were wide open taking in the people and the sights. Scott, being the photographer and master documenter of events was in a most creative mood and put this slideshow together featuring my new dog, Petey. Thanks Scott. It was a most wonderful present for everybody!