Confession - Wake Me Up When September Ends

My poor, dear husband.


Every holiday of his always sucks. His birthdays, Fathers Day, you name it, reeks likes Lincoln's doody diapees without fail. 


And, no, I am not sabotaging them! I know you were thinking that. I actually want them to be good! I figure that, by setting a good example, I will receive as good as I give. So, even though his birthdays and holidays are still somewhat about me, they still end up in shitsville. Why does this always happen?


This year, I planned the day knowing full well how it would end up. I ordered fancy dried mushrooms online in hopes of replicating his all-time favorite dish that we had in Paris. And I hate mushrooms! 


The evening ended with him eating three microwaved chicken dogs that looked like exploding cigars and probably tasted like rubber. 


Happy Birthday! 


Let me reiterate. Not. My. Fault. His mom actually got really sick and is still in the hospital today. So we have yet to celebrate his 33rd year on Earth. 


I had a great "roast" blog post all worked out for his birthday, but it didn't feel right at the time. And, given the circumstances, I haven't been able to write much since. 


But Larry's mom is improving little by little each day and I just can't move on without acknowledging Larry's big day. 

So, for my newspaper man, here's "just the facts" you need to know about Lawrence:

1. He cannot dance. At least, I don't think he can. I have never really witnessed him do it. We slow-danced at our wedding but that was just swaying back and forth and trying not to look ridiculously mismatched with our 13-inch height differential. 

2. He cannot sing. Again, I don't think a drunken rendition of the "Thong Song" at our wedding counts. 

3. He's the smartest man I know. And I say that with full confidence, despite the incident last week when I sent him to the grocery store to get exactly three things and he came home with only one of them. 

4. He's the best father, son and husband I have ever known. Don't let this list or this blog fool you into thinking otherwise. 

5. No one appreciates him or loves him more than me. And no one ever will. 

Cheers!