Question

Does it reflect poorly on me and my puppy parenting skills if our dog takes a huge dump in the middle of the floor during his first puppy training lesson?

Because he totally did.


And I was pretty mortified.


On the plus side, that's the first poop in 3 months that one of us hasn't had to bend over and personally scoop up a handful of excrement. I guess that's worth $50 a lesson, right?

Do yourself a favor

Saturday was the ear doctor's day of treating his wife really well. First, instead of getting a flat of nectarines he convinced me to get this AWESOME cookbook.

Do yourself a favor and pick up a copy. Seriously, so good.

Secondly, he graciously suggested that we go to a chick flick in the afternoon. The movie Nights in Rodanthe was billed as "the 2008 version of the Notebook". I loved the Notebook a disgraceful amount, so this should have been a shoe-in right? Wrong. It was HORRIBLE. The ear doctor and I are starting an anit-Rodanthe marketing campaign.

Do yourself a favor and STAY AWAY from this movie.

Last but not least, he took me on a fancy date to a Cuban restaurant and to see Jon Reep at Comedy works. I ended up sitting next to a man who was too large to sit only on his own seat, so he decided to take up half of mine. He then proceeded to fold his arms, refuse to buy the 2 drink minimum and not laugh for two hours straight.

So, I say to him: Dude, do yourself a favor and go get a personality.

Win a prize!

Today I got a long awaited, really cool piece of hardware it. It is a sight to behold, and if I thought there was the remotest chance that anyone besides me would find it interesting I'd share more details.

But odds are you wouldn't care at all.

So I'm not going to.

When they sent it to me, they built a big box out of plywood to make sure it wasn't damaged during delivery. The box is about 4' x 4' x 3', so a sizable square. Nothing strange about that. The weird thing is the warning labels they plastered on the outside. Is there anyone on earth who can decifer the meaning of this sticker?

I'll give whoever comes up with the best description of what this warning is actaully saying a fabulous prize. Becuase for the life of me I can't figure out what they were hoping to prevent.

Overheard

Right now some awesome co-workers are talking a bit of McCain/Obama. They brought up Ms. Palin and then I heard:


"I don't think Katie, for one, much likes her."


Pretty sure they were talking about Katie Couric, but it works for me too.

perspective

***overheard in our kitchen last night****


Katie: Did you see the new jcrew catalog? It's so great. I just love it.

Ear doctor: (slightly confused) Ummm, no.

Katie: Really, it's so great. I love everything in there. It's perfect. And I know that I've already said this about 3 times but I just really think its great.

Ear doctor: (rolling his eyes at my perceived utter dorkiness) Katie, I just don't get into catalogs like you do.


(pause, pause)


Ear doctor: Unless it's skymall or something.





Yeah, who's the dorky one now?

Bad News

Last night I was caught red handed smack in the middle of an adulterous affair. My first and dearest love came home, walked down our hallway and caught me off guard as I was sneakily involved with a new romantic fling. it all went down, right there on the new couch.

Luckily, Bon Appetite was man enough to let me be me. He understands that I need space and that sometimes you have to let someone walk away to prove that you really love them. My first foray into the world of Cook's Illustrated started simple enough. I love fall and I LOVE soup. I cracked open the mag and was a little stunned to see the plain, informative layouts; I was used to the glitz and glam of the BA.

Look at all that information! On just a little soup recipe. My poor overworked underfed brain had to strain to read all that text. Finally I got down to the ingredients list. Here at the ear doctor's house we spare no expense in getting the finest of ingredients.

The first direction had me pull out my dutch oven. Unforch the writers of this recipe did not know that in the limited space kitchen that a rental apartment provides there is just no space for a dutch oven. Sadly, I whipped out my stock pot instead.

But oh, how I wish the Le Creuset fairy would come and drop a green one off at my door...

After sauteing up some onions and garlic in went the tomatoes. Next direction? mash up the tomatoes with a potato masher. Up until about a month ago I would have had to do this step with a pastry blender (I have 3 of them). Luckily, my mom pulled through and got me this little beauty.

While the soup simmered I watched the floor show....

And in the end this recipe was fantastic and warmed me to the tips of my toes...not hard consider it is still about 80 degrees here in Colorado. I guess just making soup does not force the weather to be more like fall...

Uh oh....

So the ear doctor read all of your comments regarding our trick or treating. And let me tell you, he was not happy.

At first he was incredulous...how could these people not agree that adults trick-or-treating was hilarious?

Then he got really mad and the accusing pointer fingers were flying. Who do you think YOU ARE?!?!?

Then all h*** broke loose. This is the kind of crazy, out of control man I live with.

I've learned to just avoid making him angry. I hope you all learned a similar lesson.

Dear Feet,

Why are you all painful and swollen today?

Love, Katie



Dear Work,

Why is it unprofessional to wander around without shoes?

All the best,
Katie

Ask and ye shall recieve

I didn't have a photo of the ear doctor's gnome costume, but now I do!

Thanks boggs!

Heres the thing

The ear doctor loves Halloween. It's probably one of his top 3 favorite holidays. He thinks of a costume months and months in advance and we usually spend about 3 weeks sewing his masterpiece together. I really wish I had the photo of him as a garden gnome to share...it was pure art.

This year we haven't been invited to any Halloween parties. My bff whose birthday is Halloween moved to Baltimore (curses) so now it looks like we may not have any real plans for the big night. This was a bit of a relief for me. I thought maybe we could just get some scary (ish) movies and stay up late together getting freaked out.

However, the past couple of weeks the ear doctor has started trying to talk me into going TRICK-OR-TREATING with him. Um, we don't have any kids or anything. He thinks it is totally legit for two adults almost 30 years old to dress up and beg for candy. He keeps insisting that it would be hilarious to see the looks on people's faces when they open the door and there we are, bags extended. Our dignity for the bargain basement price of a stale, rock hard tootsie roll and partially opened smarties.

I just can't bring myself to catch his vision for the evening.

What do you think? Strange or kind of funny?



WHOA, lots of you are very passionate about this one. What if instead of just showing up and asking for a treat we provide a trick as well? I could play my fiddle and the ear doctor could make our dog dance on his back legs? Would that be funnier/prevent hostility?

Save the redheads!

Is it narcissistic of me to want to go check out this cool display at NY Studio Gallery?

Probably.

Julia Baum writes a blog all about redheads. Have you heard that we are becoming extinct? Well, Julia is trying to preserve us, which is pretty cool. Luckily I married a man who's maternal grandfather had red hair so we should have a pretty decent shot at having a red headed little munchkin.



Nell, you should totally go and tell me all about it. Sorry, but you're my only friend that lives in the city.

Prepare to be impressed

I came into work this morning thinking it would be just another average Friday. Boy, oh boy, was I wrong.

At about 10 am my friend Derrick (aka Pan Song) sent out an innocent meeting notice. The title of the meeting? "TIME TO RIDE." This piqued my curiosity. I opened the meeting notice and was delighted to see this totally dorky picture:


How deliciously nerdy is mountain unicycle riding?!?!? Seriously, can you think of something more stereotypically dorky? I didn't think so.

About an hour later this is what my eyes spied in the parking lot:





Sweet glory! Does it get better! A bunch of engineers all gathered around watching each other nearly crack their heads open during work hours! On a UNICYCLE. A method of travel usually reserved for trained chimps in a circus!



Add a free, giveaway T-shirt advertising our modeling software and you've really got a doozy of a combination.

Then I realized what a spectacular background this big red wall was!



Anyone else involved in anything quite as spectacular at work today?

Get this

I read this great story about a woman who started a fancy snow cone business out of an old renovated trailer in Kansas City, featured on DesignSponge today.

Holy INSPIRING.

For about the past year the idea of opening a bakery has been on my mind. There is really nothing that makes me happier than seeing someone bite into some kind of pastry I've made and making them smile. Sends me to the moon.

Well, the idea of finding the perfect location for a store front and the idea of all that start-up expense literally drains all of the desire to take the leap out of my little soul.

So here is my question: If I got a cute little trailer like this and ran a mobile bakery to your neck of the woods, would you walk down the street for some warm cookies and milk?

Bring em up right

I sort of thing this picture is AWESOME, despite my sister's inability to take a picture without cutting off the top of a head or bottom of a leg.

She's totally going to be an engineer like her aunty. (that'd be me)

Finding truth

One of the truly satisfying experiences in my life come when science agrees with what I learn at church.


So often they seem at odds.


As a pretty logical educated person, this can be difficult for me. But I find that in the struggle to understand the seeming disparity I grow as a person and am granted enlightenment beyond my own powers of deduction. Usually I am able to settle the difference in my mind, or lean on my faith to bridge the gap.

However, when leading scientists in their field do it for me it satisfies me my very core.

Yesterday I was clicking around and was floored by this quote I read:

The initial organization of the brain does not rely that much on experience...Nature provides a first draft, which experience then revises...'Built-in' does not mean unmalleable; it means organized in advance of experience." written by leading neuroscientist Dr. Marcus Kaiser.

I was seriously beaming all afternoon after reading this. Am I just the biggest nerd in the world, or what?





***And if you're going to leave a rude or mean comment, save yourself the time and trouble, I'm a quick deleter****

He's the bomb

I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings here, but I'm going to have to come out and say it.

My husband is the best.

Once a week we have the ear doctor's grill night. He makes dinner. It always involves his bbq grill and it's always amazing. Yesterday morning he asked what he should make. Usually I never really have a specific food craving, but yesterday was different. I wanted chorizo and mushroom quesadillas.

While he cooked, I ironed strips of fabric for my activity day tonight. Well, Roscoe heard the call of nature and I paused my project to take him about. When I came back to my ironing board this is what I found:

Yeah, for me, it doesn't get much better than that. And check out how great the food looked just as we were about to bite into it:

It was delicious!

Clearly, the ear doctor is still working on making the correct portion size. I only ate about 1/3 of this food.

Like a peach

My senior year of college I had one very best friend. His name was Jeff and I thought he was the coolest kid on the block. We did everything together: homework, mid-day trips to Costco for $1.50 hot dogs and samples, 7-11 Slurpee runs. When my dumb, overdramatic relationship with someone else fell apart I was down in the dumps. To cheer me up, he suggested we take an awesome road trip to San Diego. We did it for Valentines weekend. It was a perfect way to remove myself from hurt feelings and Provo in general. His friendship saved that entire last year.


One day we were walking through the halls at school and he noticed I had a strange bruise on my shin. He asked what happened and I gave him the same response I always give to this question, "I don't really remember."


This kind of blew him away. The thing is, I bruise so easily that I never remember how I get them. I told him this to his incredulous face and he didn't believe me. I insisted that almost anything will give me a bruise. To test my posit, he balled up both fists and lightly punched me in both of my biceps.


It didn't really hurt, but boy did he feel bad for the entire next week when I had two exactly matching bruises on each arm.


You all probably don't believe me, right. Well just check this out:




Yup, what you are seeing on my right forearm is a huge bruise the size of a ping pong ball. I have no idea what happened.

You can just go ahead and call me the queen of graceful now.

Because I thought they were about every country..

This semester the ear doctor is teaching a class all about the definition and importance of culture. Specifically he's teaching about the importance of cultural sensitivity and the role of a service provider.

In other words, how best communicate information to people who may have a different cultural background than your own.


One of his lectures is on ethnocentrism...or thinking that your own ethnicity/culture/country is the bomb. Sometimes it means that you think so much of yourself that you can't even see reality.


Which is why we both just DIED the other night when we were watching America's Got Talent and the "Hoff" (wise, sage of our generation) made this statement:





I guess I've been wrong all these years thinking that the Olympics were a world event where country and cultural differences are put aside to celebrate the great athletic accomplishments of an individual.

I'm wrong.

It's pure American.

NieNie followup

Last Friday Gabby at Design Mom wrote a great post reporting the outcome of NieNie day a few weeks ago. All told, since August 28th $117,000 has been donated to help Stephanie and Christian Nielson, mostly in small increments from blog auctions. Amazing.

So, by now you may be bored of hearing about all of this. But I can't seem to let it go. Participating in this one little event really impacted me on so many different levels. It helped me realize the ability that I can personally have to help. It showed me that not only can I help make the world around me a better place, but I have the responsibility to do so.

It reaffirmed my positive outlook on life and the of the goodness of people. Sometimes I start to feel jaded. I see the great potential in people squandered. I see selfishness and thoughtlessness and begin to think that the majority of humanity is like that. But that just isn't the case. By far, most people are good. Most people are honest and true. And that is so nice to remember.

As I read down through the comments on Gabby's Friday post I was completely overwhelmed by one of the commenter's thoughts. She wrote:

From a Grandmother:In another era, women would have shared news while hanging out the laundry, chatting over the back fence with a neighbor. And those same women would have put their sympathies into a bake sale, etc., for a good cause.It's wonderful to witness that timeless compassion at work in your current world of blogging "neighbors." Bless you all!

I was so moved by this idea. I was humbled to be part of a group described as having timeless compassion.

Poll results

Well, Internet, this time you have sided with me.


On our previous poll (the one about the old versus the new cereal box tops) you found in favor of the ear doctor's preference, 4 to 2.

This time, however, I am fully validated in my stance. Most of you smart, lovely, attractive people out there agree with me that the typical Sizzler dining experience is a cut above that of the Golden Corral.

The final results were thus: 10 of you agreed with me that the likelihood of getting hepatitis A is far less at sizzler than at golden corral. 2 of you sided with the ear doctor that both establishments feature the same amount of food crushed and ground into that weird green-with-little-Fleur-de-lis carpet. And 3 of you sounded off even though you haven't been to both, so you can't really compare.


Ear doctor, put that in your pipe and smoke it. (wink)

Huh?

What's that? You want to see more pictures of my dog? OK, I GUESS I'll obliged your desperate, deepest desire.





Awww, cute family photo, no? The ear doctor loves to look creepy in photos. It's his trademark look.

Who says only children aren't good a sharing?

A quick survey

The ear doctor and I are locked in a serious debate, the outcome of which can only be solved by your input. The question up for your consideration:


Is Golden Corral at the same level of "niceness" as Sizzler?

Not a good idea

My aunt was a dental hygienist.

I say that she was a hygienist not because she recently had a career change, but because she passed away about 4 and a half years ago from colon cancer. And I really hope she doesn't have to clean people's teeth in the next life.

Although, if someone cleans teeth in heaven it would be my aunt because she was just that good at it.


As a result of my affection for her and her lessons in flossing I have a very strong personal testimony of the benefits brought by good dental hygiene. Going to the dentist means more to me than just something that a responsible adult does, its a way to honor her memory. Strange, yes.

As a consequence I look forward to my visits to the recumbent chair.

Yesterday I had such a visit. I was a bit late and scurried into my appointment at the exact stroke of 8:50. Being the first appointment of the day means that you don't have a chance to catch up on your important US Weekly readings. I was whisked away back into the sterile cubicles.

Together Cindy (my hygienist) and I began to explore the exciting, tarter filled cavities of my molars. At first she gingerly picked and prodded, but I could tell she was holding back. Flashes of my aunts warnings about gum disease and rotting teeth filled my memory.

Cindy's tool slipped and she apologized for being a bit forceful.

Confused by my mingled feelings of loss and determination to make my aunt proud, I foolishly answered, "don't worry. I'm hardcore. I want every bit of gunk out of there."

And boy did she remove it.

I've never felt such violence in my poor little mouth. Giving a hygienist the go ahead to mercilessly scrape, poke, prod and polish is a BAAAAAAD idea. I knew I was in for it when she pushed up her sleeves, struck a power stance next to my chair and braced her full weight against the strength of my jaw bone.

The rest of the day my mouth was throbbing with pain. But each throb reminded me of my dear aunt who I miss terribly. Each pulse reassured me that I did the right thing and that she would be proud. So even though it was one of the more painful dental visits of my life, at least Aunt Sandy would be happy with me.

What a difference a day makes

That is, if the day is Nie Nie day.

Occasionally I check my little blog's stats on google analytics. I get between 200-250 unique readers each day. This is exactly the size and type of traffic that I expect and hope to have.

However, on Nie Nie day I had a pretty incredible spike. Check it out:

I just think it is so cool what a bunch of Internet strangers can really do. It's amazing.

In rememberence

It seems fitting that today is gray, drizzly and cold outside. That type of weather sends me into a deep tailspin of either introspection or recollection. Today it's the latter.

Today I'm remembering the devastation of 7 years ago. The lives that were lost. The countrywide anguish. The power and ability of tragedy to unify a people. Which is especially important right now as the political arena seems to be creating an ever widening gulf between people.


It reminds me to be a little kinder. Slower to anger. More patient and open minded with everyone around me. The time we have is precious, not a second of which should be wasted.

Say it aint so

I didn't understand this movement in fashion when I first saw it zooming down the slopes. Bandannas turned around so they hang like some kind of bank robber/necklace. I didn't understand why those snowboarders didn't just wear a scarf? But, I kind of understood the appeal of being able to shove it up and down when an inclement drift of powder comes face on. In my mind there was a function, so I shrugged my shoulders and let it go.

However.

Lately I've been seeing this fashion moving into the mainstream. Girls wearing large fringed bandannas instead of jewelry. Is it supposed to be a nod to the Arabic keffiyeh? Somehow I doubt it. This is a look I just can't get behind. I think it's weird.

And now, at fashion week, this:

A bandanna with a gown? Huh? I don't get it. If it's warm enough to go with a strapless gown there is really no need for a scarf, now is there?

Is this so that she can hold up everyone at a ritzy party for their wallets and jewels and make a speedy, anonymous get away?

Loosing it

Two things I thought I KNEW about an hour ago:


1) there was a string cheese in my purse
2) I had no change except pennies



When I looked down into my purse to try to fetch the string cheese I became a bit confused. On first glance I couldn't find it. Now, my purse isn't really one of those bottomless-pit types so I can pretty much tell if something is in there. Despite that fact I frantically pushed aside random receipts and gum wrappers thinking somehow a standard size string cheese could be obscured by trident packaging. It wasn't there.

Curiously enough there was a random quarter in there.


Suddenly my mind leaped to the following (insane) conclusion:

Someone must have stolen my string cheese out of my purse and dropped a quarter in like I am some kind of WALKING VENDING MACHINE!!!!!!



30 minutes later I found the cheese on the floor of my car, still no explanation for the extra quarter. Don't worry, in-depth investigations will commence shortly.

Ummm, sorry, you're wrong

I hate going grocery shopping. Hate it. I just can't stand to be in the market with a bunch of other people. I end up feeling really rude because I'm in someone else's way or I get frustrated by people standing in mine. It's usually a horrible experience for me. 9 times out of 10 I'd rather pay more and go to a farmer's market where I'm outside and there aren't a bazillion carts careening in my direction.

However, if we don't go to the store we starve. So I go.


I like to go on Friday afternoons when I'm done with work. That's just the time that works out the best for me. I fortify myself with a nice cold Intajuice (so much better than Jamba, IMHO) and force myself past the annoying petitioners into the building.

This last Friday I made a similar effort. The ear doctor accompanied me for moral support. We rapidly ticked down the shopping list and found ourselves in the check out line surprisingly quickly.

I watched as our items rang up on the computer screen. I once heard somewhere that people pay on average $5 more than they should because things ring up incorrectly and they are too distracted to notice.

The checker got down to the bottom of my cart and pulled up my 2 heads of lettuce..BIBB lettuce. She stared blankly at them and then looked up at me. She asked, "what is this?"


I was a bit stunned.


There is an entire wall of lettuce in the produce section. I would have thought that almost every other customer had a random head of lettuce in their cart. I shrugged and said, "lettuce?"

"I know that....but what kind?" She responded back.

Here is where she lost me even more. Every single type of lettuce at this market is the same price. $1.49 a head. I know this because we get at least one head every single week. So for her to ask what kind, to me, seemed a silly question. Does it really matter to her?

"It's bibb, I think" I offered....even though I was 100% sure that it was bibb lettuce.


"No, it ABSOLUTELY is not BIBB LETTUCE" She responded. Our eyes locked. The tension between us was palpable. This woman was not going to back down from her non-bibb lettuce stance and I realized that this was a battle not worth fighting. I shrugged, she rang it up as bibb (it cost $1.49...like every other type of lettuce in the store) and we moved on.


And that is why my hatred of the grocery store lives on.

What do you think?

My grandma bought a BEAUTIFUL mid-century modern arm chair over a decade ago. I don't know when exactly she got it, but I know it's been a long time because I remember at least 2 different fabrics covering the cushion. It is kind of like this one, but higher, shallower and a much nicer seat.

The coolest part is that my grandpa looked at the chair and decided to duplicate it. Being a master woodworker, this came naturally to him. Now they have two gorgeous chairs that sit in their front room. They are so identical that it is impossible to tell which was purchased and which was crafted.

I covet them every time I go to her house.

The ear doctor and I really need more seating in our house and 2 chairs like this are exactly what I want. I found these listed on craigslist for $20 each. They aren't nearly as cool, but they kind of give the same vibe, right? I could easily recover them.

Should I get them?

Ambition

We all pulled up chairs in my parent's inviting breakfast nook, like we did every Monday night. I sat at the end of the oblong oak table, in my normal seat. To my right was my brother, Nathan. At 16 years old he thought he was way too cool to be participating in a family activity. The skid row t-shirt and gleaming silver braces he was sporting were proof contrary.

On my left, sat my work-weary dad. He assumed his standard family night pose: strong arms folded up high over his chest, head rolled to the side, eyelids drooping dangerously close to closed.

My mom gave a short lesson to the family...probably on being nice and not loosing our tempers. She must have known what that nights activity would entail. Hesitantly, she brought out the Monopoly board.

Nathan's previously rolling eyes lit up. I also perked right up to attention. A game? That I could win? Count me in! Maggie squirmed, saw me get excited and followed suit. My dad woke himself up with his own snort.


We began to play.


As is to be expected, my ruthless cunning take-no-prisoners personality reared it's ugly head. I was in control of the game. I had almost all the money in the game, properties on 3 sides of the board. However, Nathan held that one precious jewel out of my Trump-like grasp. He had hotels on boardwalk and Park place.

No matter, I was winning.

Until, suddenly I found myself landing on his hotel laden square. The horror of what had just happened slowly sank in. All my money, power, and most important WINNINGs were for naught. Like a bad dream, Nathan slowly turned toward me and one look at that jeering self-satisfied face was more than this little 8 year old could take.

Without thinking my two little hands shot out across the table, grabbed the unsuspecting edges of the game board. With more force than you would think possible I violently threw board, bank and the whole community chest across the kitchen.

In the stunned silence that followed the overly emotional outburst you could have heard a single green plastic little house drop on the floor.

I have always been too competitive for my own good. Obviously I've frustrated my family with this embarrassing drive, but it goes further. I've let it prevent real friendships from growing. I've let it make me feel bad about myself. I've let it define who I am instead of choosing who I want to be.

Constantly I hear that being ambitious is a praiseworthy trait. That a person will accomplish more by really turning up the ambition and letting that guide them. But I'm not so sure if that model works for me.

You see, the thing I get most ambitious about is being the best and/or WINNING. And it really doesn't matter what I'm the best at. In my mind ambition and competition are intertwined and so mixed together that its nearly impossible for me to straighten them out. This is probably one of my greatest personal weaknesses. So, my question to you is this: Are you able to feel a spirit of ambition without any overtones of competition? If so, how does that feel?

Because I'd love to figure that out.

I wish I were a little bit deeper

*****don't worry, this isn't about politics****

As you know, I live in the Denver area. As a result of proximity I found myself interested in the happenings of the DNC. Usually I steer clear of both conventions because they seem a little bit Disney-like. A bunch of speeches directed to the choir and clapping. No thanks. I prefer to wait for the debates.

Anyway, during the DNC I decided that I kind of liked Michelle Obama. I thought the dress she picked for her speech was pretty rockin, despite a distracting sun broach.

I have been telling myself that I am an independent voter, living in a "purple" state who wants to fully research both sides of this upcoming election. So, I decided I needed to watch a few minutes of the republican national convention...just for equality.

I caught a little bit of Sarah Palin's speech, and thought:

Who was doing this chick's hair? She's got a freakin cone head. Plus, its too bad that Tina Fey isn't on SNL anymore because she'd be a shoe in for a look alike, and that'd be some funny stuff.

It was at this point that I realized that I need to get a grip, grow up a little and listen to what they're saying instead of critiquing their outfits.

But, really, Sarah Palin, who told you to wear oatmeal beige? Yuck.

Happy birthday to my one and only

Dear Ear Doctor,

Today we celebrate you. Your birth. The stunningly wonderful day you were brought into this world. I feel so lucky to be married to my perfect match.

Let's see how you've used the last year of your life, shall we?

You spent many hours in preparation for your coronation as grill master.

You were the Clyde to my Bonnie.

You dominated the intermediate level of Guitar Hero (I'm such a proud wife)

You helped me eat my weight in garlic cheese toast at Claim Jumper.

You creeped me out at the St. Patrick's Day parade.

You earned your first of two doctoral degrees.

You were really thrilled to be at DisneyWorld.

You finally convinced me to get a dog.

You buried yourself in ties

You ate monkey balls

All in all, a very successful year for you.

Happy birthday sweets. Love, wifey.