native foreigner: Not for the Ghouls and Goblins.

All his life, Justin has had the great misfortune of sharing his birthday with the ghouls and goblins that come to visit us for one day each year. It is especially unfortunate because he hates to dress up, and is yet forced to, year after year, on the day that is supposed to be all about him.

Birthdays are important to me. They represent the person's existence. Why I can see them, talk to them, look them in the eyes, hug them, laugh with them, cry with them. It is why I get to love them. Because they were born.

I've always struggled with Justin's birthday. I want him to know how important this day is because it gave us all him. But I also love Halloween. And so does almost everyone else, as it's one of the greatest days of the year. It's a battle, and Justin is usually the loser, thrust into some party wearing some costume I concocted [usually inspired by his tastes, but a costume none-the-less].

This year, thanks to some wise thinking by our good friend Cielo, the joint travel efforts of our close friends, Ali and Donald, and my sister and bro-in-law, Jana and Chris, and some other wonderful schemers, we put together an amazing birthday surprise.

Everyone dressed up like a version of Justin.

There was Justin-in-the-womb [Chels], FSU Track Runner Justin [Katie], Mountain Justin [Jana], Chris-as-Justin-as-Chris Justin [Chris], Cowboy Justin [Cielo], Drunk Justin [Madre], Fisherman Justin [Ali], Guitar Center Justin [Donald], and Rocker Justin [Me]. There were also clown noses for everyone. To make it just a little bit scary [and still birthday inspired].

And then, of course, Justin was Old-Man Justin. It was fairly believable, too, considering that as soon as he put on the gray wig he became extremely crotchety. And the cane we provided seemed well received, as he walked around the house leaning into it, complaining of feet pains from standing all day.

We had a feast of his favorites... mini-meatloaf sandwiches, indy green bean casseroles, fried chicken, zucchini fries, watermelon, cake, and some lethal vodka lemonades. And of course, Miller High Life. The champagne of beers.