Dave’s birthday was a nice quiet affair, like he likes it. His coworkers were astounded that I wasn’t ‘doing’ anything, no party, no surprise party, not even dinner out. But, Dave HATES shit like that, especially when it’s for him. If you ask HIM, his birthday was perfect.  He worked, we grilled burgers and I had a small chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting, and Ben and Jerry’s PBCup ice cream.  He liked his gifts, he already knew about the DVDs but was excited anyway, and he hadn’t even KNOWN that Bruce Campbell had a new book out, so he really liked that.  I also got him a Blender magazine with the Family Guy on front (and inside, a card with a picture of a similar guitar, get it? music mag=guitar?) and a Sport Compact Car with a fresh pack o’ Garbage Pail Kids inside. Oh yes, kids, they’re back — for their 20th anniversary. Feel old, now, or what?

He was excited about the guitar, but insisted I shouldn’t have spent the money (and, by the by, it was only 150 bucks. Seriously, it’s not like I got him a brand new Strat or something) and that that’s why the catalog had disappeared. He said he realized as he was gushing over it, that it was too close to his birthday to be so pro-new guitar, so he took it to WORK and threw it OUT to try to keep me from figuring out what he wanted. Mwahahaha, I win.  And besides, I told him, this was his new guitar for being 30 — it’s a more mature guitar than he has, and I know he won’t sticker it all up and shit, and now, I told him, he needs to learn how to play Puff the Magic Dragon or something.  It’s his Dad Guitar. Or, will be, eventually.

Today we were visited by some sort of street missionary leaving videos and pamphlets for some fundy group, which , BIG waste of money there, churchy, and even more annoying, (I think) they just left it without knocking or saying anything. Dave was in the garage with the door open, and I’m in the house the the main door open (just the screen closed) so we’re obviously HOME, and I would’ve liked to have been able to just refuse and not be adding more to the landfill and such, but, whatever.

I went to the pharmacy to refill my Synthroid, and came back to find the brochure on the counter,

with dave’s thoughtful additions:

and:

Seriously. I love this man.

(Testing my remote for the first time, so not a good pic, but the most recent, anyway. It was about, oh, 830, 9? when I took this. The sky was black. Dave was washing his car.)