Wasn’t it just a couple of years ago that we were, you know, 22 or 23?  And yet somehow, here we are. Today, October 17, 2017, you turn 37 and I’m so glad that you were born.  This past year has seen highs and lows, like every year, but there’s no one else I’d rather be walking through life with.

There’s a little more gray in your hair than there used to be (I blame Archer, #thegrayhairgiver!) but regardless, I love you more than ever.  The Bible says that gray hair is a crown of splendor and you have earned it well, my love. You’re funny, loyal, tireless, and consistent.

You spoil us rotten with trips that feed our souls (and our tummies).

Turns out, you’re scared of heights (who new?), but that’s ok. I’ll hold your hand (maybe we just don’t need to go to the top of any more high buildings?).

I knew I was in trouble in 1999 when you came to visit me at Pepperdine and I cried the whole way home from taking you to the airport. I knew we’d be good together, and I was right (for once ????).  I mean, look at our babies. Look at them! Gosh, we’re lucky.

Thirty-seven looks good on you, my love. Happy birthday.

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