To The Grand Puba of My Life

Last night when you and Emma were each building a castle made of wooden blocks, Emma accidentally brushed her foot against one of your sidewalls. In one fell swoop your creation was reduced to a pile of rectangles, cylinders, and squares.

“OH NO!!” I yelled.

“It’s okay,” you said with absolute calm. “It was NOT the best location for a castle anyway.”

“Sorry, Sweetie, but it looks like you represent floods, tornadoes, hurricanes, earthquakes and all other natural disasters of this world,” I said to Emma.

Meanwhile, you merely moved a safe distance away from the restless feet of our two-year-old daughter and began reconstructing your castle block by block.

And then our OTHER daughter, the one that eats like a mama whale who’s trying to quit smoking, caught sight of your relocation endeavor and stomped onto the scene. She headed straight for your castle’s new address, bent over, reached for the colorful blocks and began throwing them at the wall like it was her God-given right to demolish all that is bright and cheery. You merely smiled and said, “Kyra, you represent the human race.”

This snippet of conversation is a perfect example of why you light my fire. Some people are serene, but not funny. Or pragmatic, but not empathetic. Or funny, but not the kind of people who dedicate time to building castles with their children. You are everything good. You are strength and balance and love and sanity all wrapped up into one wacky human being. You are someone I can call with the "Mobile Shout Out" without flinching if I'm ever lucky enough to land inside the Cash Cab. You are someone who can sew a button, make fajitas, recite Shakespeare, and keep his opinion to himself without hesitation. I am a richer person for having known you. Imagine this -- without you, I might’ve died without hearing “Warm Beer and Cold Women” on vinyl… or on any other musical medium for that matter. I might’ve never eaten scrapple or read A Garden of Sand, or become so personally acquainted with Google that he'd eventually email me on a regular basis. I’m richer because you introduced me to Rod Sterling, A Clockwork Orange, poultry seasoning, cinnamon in my coffee and the concept of privacy. You’ve educated me on the benefits of writing a grocery list and the stupidity of shopping on an empty stomach. I'm richer because you helped me learn to treat myself like Queen of the World. And to respect money and time. And to focus on what's truly important. Also? Without you, I might’ve never learned to say no when I mean no. Or NO MORE when I mean NO MORE. Or SHUT UP when I mean “Go to HELL, you FREEEAAK!!!” The many ways in which you've enriched my life are too numerous to list.

So, basically, thanks for asking me to share the rest of my life with you. Thanks for not running in the opposite direction at warped speed once you REALLY got to know me. Thanks for those people you helped me create. And thanks for building castles with them occasionally.

Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart. I love you.