Delilah, Part 2

I'm back with another plea for sanity on the dog-owner front. Remember back when I told you about the program we were running from our house, Butt-Licker's Anonymous? Well, now we are extending our services to those who canNOT seem to keep themselves off a good couch or bed (or laundry basket or stack of blankets or pillow on the floor...). But not the bed purchased for these purposes; no, that is repulsive.

Do you see this dog? In the picture here, she is strewn across two of my most special-est lady friends on our over-sized chair (aka, Josh's "throne"). As you can see, she is hap-hap-happy as a lark, as my Mom would say. Spoiled rotten, I say.

I've been at work in the living room, unpacking our stacks of boxes. Actually, not even removing anything from the boxes really. More like just shifting the piles around to make sense of them all, occasionally peeking in one for something useful. Since a recent shift involved completely blocking the hallway to the bedrooms/bathroom (we have two bathrooms now though, yay!); I was thoughtful enough to drag her bed out to the living room for her. She's passed out there and the cat's in the office in the chair (she has issues, too, but hers aren't related to muddy feet, so I don't yet care). Oh wait...nope, now she's under my feet staring at me and plotting a way onto the desk...

I just noticed, on my way back and forth from the front to the back of the house, that Delilah wasn't on her bed. This wasn't a conscious observation at the time - it took me a few trips before I put it all together. As I went back through the living room, I noticed her crouched on the couch, making herself as small as possible. She had her head turned to the side and was looking at me out of the corner of her eye, I swear she was holding her breath. "Please don't see me Please don't see me Please..." DELILAH! GET DOWN! (Sulks off to wherever).

Story of our lives, I tell you. Same scenario involving the bed and a pile of laundry on top to be folded. She's buried in them so you don't notice her the first few times if you're not looking right. But she sees you, trust me. At night, she acts all obedient and curls up in her bed in the corner and looks at you, smiling like "I'm a good girl. Night-night." Then, when she's sure you're soooouuund asleep (or thinks you are), she creeeeeps up onto the bed ever so softly - whereas normally she would hop like a prancing deer onto it - and curls up riiiight at the end near your feet. When you wake up because you have no blankets and can't pull them because they're weighted down somehow or now you can't move your foot over there to the cold spot to get comfy again and go back to sleep DE-LI-LAH! (Down to her bed again). Repeat all night.

She simply does not give a SHIT what the rules are. She is spoiled rotten, and smart as a whip. I didn't care as much when we had no backyard and therefore she was a not-so-filthy indoor dog. But now she is an explorer star! She has a backyard that looks like a fern gully of weeds higher than her, and she is ALL about it. And since I'm playing Tetris with boxes and furniture, I'm letting her be. I'm just doing a lot of extra cleaning up behind her. But maybe once I know where all my silverware is, it will be time to cash in those two free dog training sessions I won at last year's May Faire. Ya think?

Annnnnnddd.......We're Off!

This is how we roll, folks. You cannot pin us down. Nope, onward through the fog my friends! But not too far...just...to another house (again).

The year and a half we've spent in this house is a record for the past 4 years. We moved 5 times in those 4 years! Yikes! Make that six! Although I guess it's technically the 5th year, but hey. The point is, no one can keep from rolling their eyes when I tell them "we're moving".

You've all heard the landlord drama and the uncertainty for the past 8 months or so. Well, this has nothing to do with the landlord. This has to do with a perfect opportunity landing in our grateful laps, and we're taking it! The place has an extra bedroom and bathroom, a huge yard (something the dog and child have had to do without at our current place, unfortunately) and a studio/shed/thing. The best part? It's actually cheaper, and in a better location, than our current place!

It's all happening pretty fast. The opportunity arose, and we snatched it, all within 24 hours. We're moving in right away and will be out of this place in two weeks. Our current landlord is so kind, he's ignoring the notice requirements. Perhaps we are emerging from our landlord curse? Hmmm. Fingers crossed.

So here we go. I wonder how long we'll live in this place??? Catch me if you can!

The Trouble with Sallie Mae

I saw the image above on the website for Americans for Fairness in Lending (affil.org). They have a lot of great information on the reality of Student Loans. They also give reference to a website for Project on Student Debt (.org). I sure wish my husband would have had access to one of these when he was choosing his education and career paths. Because we are screwed. So this image speaks to us.

We also recently watched PBS documentary "The Student Loan Sinkhole" and it was like looking into a mirror. Especially the particular focus on Sallie Mae (I hate this bitch!). Even worse, most of the doom and gloom stories featured in this and other news specials are dealing with chump change. $15,000 in debt. $30,000 in debt. $70,000 in debt. TRY $250,000 IN DEBT. Yeah, then talked to me about stress and pressure.

Talk to me about phone calls. Talk to me about not only phone calls from them wanting more money than anyone could ever give; but then a duplicate/reminder phone call following every few days from my mother-in-law, the....COSIGNER. Fuck.

Talk to me about spending 3 of the 14 days of my wedding/honey/familymoon on the phone with them. Talk to me about duplicate automated withdrawals that no one but me and my bank statement can see (taking upwards of 4 weeks to have refunded). Talk to me about India. Talk to me about republican Texan jocks in grad school (yes, I psychically determined ALL of that whilst spending one lovely hour of my life on the phone with him) acting as "supervisors" when phone calls get "elevated" because no one can tell me why when I call every month, someone tells me a different story.

Talk to me about the "income contingent/economic hardship" program we supposedly qualified for with three different rounds of paperwork last summer during our matrimonial magic. And yet, the very next month, they bill us $300 over the amount we qualified for and agreed to pay. And the month after that it was $200 more. And the month after that it was $400. When I call each month to ask why the amount keeps changing, I'm told certain paperwork wasn't completed properly; this person has definitely done it, she swears; the next month the amount will be correct; in the meantime, though, we need to talk about the excess amount they've billed us for the last month that we couldn't pay and are now delinquent on; since the paperwork wasn't put through we technically still owe it. Every month. Same conversation. The best is when one person gave me his name and extension number before I hung up, smiling and grateful and thankful, and told me to just call him if there were any problems. Guess what happened when I did? Sallie Mae doesn't have accessible extension numbers like that. Mmmhmm.

So the calls come. The calls get ignored. Mother-in-law sends them $100 or $500 or $1,000 or whatever she has every once in a while to shut them up for a few weeks. We try to qualify for programs. We watch political chatter on student loan reform like a hawk. Every 50th phone call or so, we call and check in with them and throw our hands in the air and give them whatever we have. We are trying so hard. So why is it, when we pay $100 more than we are (supposed to) owe each month, we are still $200 delinquent each month???

And the worst part is, we're only paying the interest. Right. So do the math in your head on what you think the interest is on that amount of money. And late fees for the delinquent amounts, and penalties for going beyond 24 months in forbearance, and so on. But rather than work with us to take what money we are willing to give (and we certainly do NOT live any sort of high life) and have a mutually respectable business relationship, they'd rather revel in their greed knowing they've got us by the balls. They belittle us when we call to get answers and tell us things like (in your best fake-nice Texas accent) "Well, Ma'am, if you don't like the program we've put you on, I'll be more than happy to remove you from the program if that's something you want me to do, and we'll put you right back there on the regular program with everyone else just like you were. And you can just IMAGINE how much you'll have to pay then!? ...Now, let's talk about the $222 you're delinquent on right now. If you don't pay it today or at least do a post-dated authorization with me today, I'll make sure those phone calls happen at least 7 or 8 times a day."

You can imagine my response.

Which is why we will never get ahead.

Fuck Sallie Mae.

I'd Like to Go Off

I would really, really like to go off about a number of current events and subjects which have recently dominated my ever-flowing, ever-ticking brain. But I won't. Instead, I come in peace.

Happy New Year, People!

I went back and looked at my Happy New Year post from last year. It was nice. The thing that caught my eye was that I just had a feeling that 2009 was going to hold some nice surprises. It was going to bring big change. I think we say this every year, don't we? Not me though. I just really felt it last year.

And guess what happened? We got married! And we didn't have that planned in January. So 2009 really did bring big, awesome changes. Also in that post, I was looking forward to Taj starting a new school. Well, that new school is also awesome, and has totally changed our lives in its own way. Certainly Taj's.

So this year, the only thing I feel is calm. I really want to work for peace and positivity. Something I struggle in striving for, all the time...story of my life. I want us all to be better people. I want us all to be healthy. I want to just be.

So we'll check in this time next year, and see what happened!

I hope you all find peace and positivity, good health, and a better life too.

I Got Engaged!!!!

What the hell?

Oh yes, I did! I have a ring on my finger that looks EXACTLY like the one in the picture (can't find my camera)! I finally got engaged, and have the bling to prove it. Last night, amid shrieks and hoots and ear-to-ear grins, my man got down on one knee, opened a glorious little box and removed said bling, taking my hand and asking "Will you marry me, still?" I laughed a deep sadistic laugh as I'm known to do...and said "Yes! I would still do it all over again."

You may recall that we never got engaged? We just "decided" to get married, picked a day a few months off for time to plan, and went for it. How romantic, right? But I don't care for or even wear bling and we can't afford any anyway, so that wasn't a big deal. For a moment, we went through the whole Sex in the City episode where Charlotte gets engaged to Trey by suggesting it and him replying with an "alrighty"; but that quickly passed. But Josh promised that someday, when I least expected it - maybe our 20th anniversary or something - I'd get my dream ring. I designed it a couple of years ago. It has a giant heart-shaped diamond in a platinum setting, surrounded by a rainbow of gemstones. Riiiiiight.

We have recently rearranged our entire house. We got a new couch, and a new bed (thanks, Marc and Carrie!), which required a complete re-do in order to accommodate everything. We've spent the last couple of weeks doing all of this. On Sunday, we spent the day gardening at Taj's school, then came home to put the finishing touches on our new bedroom. This required the reorganization of our closet, something that I have done at LEAST three times in the past year and a half that we've lived here. I had Josh putting our suitcases away in the very top shelf, when he says, "What's this???"

Now...I know what you're thinking. My man is the most romantic awesomest cutest surpisingest husband ever, right? Wrong.

It took me a good five minutes to decipher if he was messing with me or not. I went through all kinds of things in my mind - How did he afford this? Why the FUCK did he spend money we don't have on this? Did I just completely ruin my Hannuwanzaamas surprise? Did we let someone borrow a suitcase and they left that in there? Was someone in here? I thought back over the past year and a half - no, there's been no one (I'd remember) that said "Hey - did I leave my 1 karat white gold diamond ring at your pad?" No phone call, no knock at the door.

Meanwhile, Josh is having the internal struggle of how to somehow play this off as a true ruined Hannuwanzaamas surprise while still taking credit for a diamond ring in the closet AND explaining to me where he got the money for it. I wish you could have seen the look on his face!!! It makes me laugh out loud as I type this. He really tried, but he's such a good person - he cannot tell a lie. He gave up and said "I swear to you, I have no idea where this thing came from!" So we laughed, and he got down on his knee, and we finally got engaged. As only Josh and Andie can.

So where the hell did this ring come from? We have NO IDEA! But dammit if I didn't get it appraised today and it ain't on my finger right now!!!!!!!! HA!

It's the Principle of the Matter (or, How I Single-Handedly Caused Target to Change Their Signage)

This is a pretty appropriate picture to represent what happened. Basically, I told someone where to shove it, much like I'm demonstrating here. Now, now...I wasn't mean, I wasn't rude, I wasn't even impatient. I just persevered. Which caused the issue to be shoved up the ass of the person who chose to embark into the power struggle with me.

I was at Target, looking for a hoodie which would be Waldorf-appropriate (meaning: no characters, no logos, no writing, etc.) for Taj. There was one. Yippee! Then, of course, I had to hit-up the boy's clearance rack to see what I might find in the under-ten-dollar-range, just for shits n giggles. I found two pairs of pants and a Waldorf-appropriate shirt (meaning: has a collar, has no blahblahblah). Yippee! The coolest part was that one of the pairs of pants was originally $17.99, had been marked down to $12.58, and was on a clearance rack which stated:

CLEARANCE 30% OFF price reduction at register

Now, let me tell you. I am a bargain queen. I rule the clearance sections ANYWHERE. I get all the lingo, the policy, etc. And when it says, "priced as marked" or something along those lines, I understand that the red clearance tag I'm looking at IS the clearance. So when it says "30% off, price reduction at register", I'm accustomed to receiving a 30% discount once I walk my item up to the register. Right? Not so fast, yo.

Before I start telling you what happened next, please understand that I am not racist. I love and hate everyone equally, and lean towards hatred of my fellow white people more often than anyone else. Nor do I have a problem with immigration - in fact, I stand firm that this section of land we called California belonged to many different people way before any white, European-descended adventurers found it, so who are we to put up walls. But it seriously did take me talking to 4 customer service reps before I communicated my problem efficiently; and while I think you don't have to have a college degree or even high school diploma or GED to work at Target - the problem was that the first three reps didn't speak enough English to actually understand what I was telling them. So here goes:

Dude #1: I ring up my items, and the discount doesn't come off. I say "Excuse me...are you sure those aren't discounted? They were from the clearance rack." He says, "Yes, clearance" and points to the red tag. I said "Yes, I know. But the sign said '30% price reduction at register' so I'm pretty sure it should be less than the $12.58 on the tag." He says, "Yes, clearance. $12.58." Now, I've lived in L.A. long enough to know where this is(n't) going, so I said "You know what? It's cool. I'll just go get a different pair." And we canceled the transaction.

Chick #1 (in the boys section): I find her, and say "Excuse me - I'm a little confused, I'm wondering if you can help me?" So she does. I start to say "The clearance rack over there? I'm wondering if you know..." She interrupts, "Let's see which clothes you're talking about." I said "The clearance rack?" as I follow her to the rack. She points around and says "Which clothes?" I said "No, the whole clearance rack - the 30% off?" She says "Yes, these are all 30% off." I said "No, please...the sign here, it says '30% off, price reduction at register' - so doesn't that mean 30% should come off the price when I take it up there?" She answers, "Yes, these are all 30% off - but some are 50% off!" with a smile. Oh my god.

Chick #2 (in the boys section): Chick #1 readily admits that she doesn't really understand, and finds and brings me Chick #2. She huffs and tosses down her wares she's organizing. I smile apologetically, and say "Hi, I'm sorry. I'm just confused. The sign here says 30% off will be taken at the register, but it's not. I'm being charged this red sticker price. This doesn't seem right to me." We launch back into "Yes, this is the clearance rack. 30% off. There's the red tag." (ohmygod) I'm trying, here, people, "Right, I realize that. What I'm saying is that it says more will be taken off, but it's not - so do you know what that's all about?" As she just gives up and turns to walk away, she says, "The red tag is the clearance tag. It's 30% off."

Believe me, I know what you're thinking. Fuck the pants, right? But we're talking $4 here, people! And at this point, I really honestly don't care one bit about the pants, but I am determined to have someone speak to me in pure English and discuss the signage, and the expectation that the price listed on the sign is the price I will pay at the register. Someone simply MUST explain their reasoning before I'm leaving the store with or without the damn pants.

So I go downstairs to the Guest Services returns/exchanges/management counter. I wait in line. I smile big and bright and I'm super nice to the assistant manager chick. Alas....

Chick #3: Not havin' it. At all. Tells me the same thing I already have grasped - that Target doesn't do additional discounts, their clearance racks have red-tagged items, and that is all there is to it. But my problem is that she can't explain to me why they would have a sign saying they do one thing, but do another. And she won't agree that this might be confusing, and might lead to some customer service issues. In fact, she won't even believe me that the sign actually says that. She keeps telling me "all of our signs say 'priced as marked' because that's our policy." I even offered to go take a picture with my camera phone if she wasn't willing to walk up there with me. I mean, come on. Surely, I can't be the first pain-in-the-ass to push this issue? Denied. So I ask to speak to the General Manager of the store. Chick #3 straight-up just shakes her head and says "I'm a manager, I can't even over-ride it, this is the policy." So I said "Well, then, what can we do?" She says, "You can call the 800# and file a complaint." I said "Okay, let me use your phone."

So I did. I called and talked to some guy from India who heard my story and was equally confused and asked to speak to Chick #3. After speaking with her, I got back on the phone and he says "Sorry ma'am. The clearance rack has 30% off already taken, which is the price listed on the red tag. So unfortunately, I can't deduct anything further." I pushed farther. I said, "That's not good enough for me. Do you realize that at Rite Aid, if the sign on the shelf says one price and the register rings it up differently, they'll give you the product for FREE? All I'm asking is for someone to give me the discount, or at the very least, change the sign." So he transfers me to a "specialist".

Specialist hears the story and is totally like "What the hell?" Specialist gets Chick #3 back on the phone, and I hear Chick #3 say with ENORMOUS reluctance, "Fine. I'll go check the sign. I'll be right back." And sets the phone down and goes upstairs. I pick up the phone, and the specialist says "Okay, I had her go check the sign. If the sign really says what you say it does, they have to honor it." Oh hell yeah. So Chick #3 comes back with the sign in her hand, and through her very-clenched jaw, I hear this one side of the conversation:

"Yes, I have the sign."
"Yes, it says what she said."
"It SAYS 'clearance 30% off price reduction at register' like she said."
"Mmmhhmmm."
"Mmmhhmmm."
sigh
"Have a good day."

So I'm handed the phone again while Chick #3 starts ringing up my items. Specialist says "She's going to give you the additional 30% off, she can over-ride that, and I told her she should probably have a long talk with her supervisors and probably the general manager, before she goes and puts that sign back. I'm SO SORRY this happened Mrs. Cunningham. It's ridiculous that you had to go this far, and I apologize."

So THERE.

I smiled, apologized to Chick #3 and thanked her very much for going to all that trouble. I told her I wished it didn't have to come to that, but it's the principle of the matter and hopefully this will avoid any other customers' confusion. I really appreciated the help and hoped she had a good day, and that no more pain-in-the-ass customers like me came her way. And I left.

And I laughed. I laughed my ASS OFF! I was just saying to someone the other day: Everyone always talks about the universe putting people/experiences in your path to teach you lessons. But I tend to experience the opposite. So often, I find myself being put in situations I believe are to teach other people their lessons, because I'm the kind of person who feels a need and a sense for justice and for things to be fair and clear and I get super-duper frustrated when things just aren't as they should be. And so I'm more than willing to make my own life a little extra difficult and frustrating. It's kinda like I'm a martyr, no?

Sure, I realize that what happened today was beyond stupid and pointless and kind of a waste of time and that most people would have either paid the $12.58 or said "fuck the pants". But I'm not most people. I needed to know why you would say one thing and do another (especially when there's a $4 discount at stake). And since I was more than willing to spend that half an hour of my life playing "say what you mean and mean what you say" detective, that's where the universe put me. But it's still crazy, I know.

Deceptively Delicious Rules My World

Check it out here: http://www.deceptivelydelicious.com/site/

Or buy the book!

Yes, yes, I realize that there's some controversy, that she may have stolen the concept, etc. But Jessica Seinfeld is the one who brought it to my cookbook collection, and so I'm giving her the credit here.

Genius!

So basically, I've bought the book for myself and a few other Mom friends with as picky of eaters as I have at home. And it has worked, for every one of us.

I promised I would post a few of my favorite recipes, and here's one we're working with so far. By the way - hidden veggies or no, I have received RAVE reviews on the recipe alone. Try it!

Blueberry Oatmeal Bars (with hidden spinach)

2 cups old-fashioned oats
1-1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
3/4 cup earth balance (or butter), chilled
1 cup blueberry preserves (but I used my own homemade compote)
1/2 cup spinach puree (I used a frozen block of chopped spinach, cooked it, and then pureed it)

Preheat the oven to 375. Coat an 8x8 pan with butter or cooking spray. In a large bowl, combine all the dry ingredients. Add the margarine/butter and cut it into the dry ingredients using two knives quickly, until it is combined, but there's still visible bits of margarine. Set aside about half of this mixture - the other half, press into the bottom of the pan. Bake until lightly browned at the edges but not fully baked, about 15 minutes. Meanwhile, mix the blueberry goo with the spinach goo. Spread the blueberry/spinach mixture over the partially-baked oat layer. Sprinkle with the remaining oat mixture, and bake until it's lightly browned again, about 25 - 30 minutes. Set on a rack to cool before cutting into bars!

YUM.

Thank you Mrs. Seinfeld!

Dirty Thirty in Full Effect

Ah, the magical desert. Josh and I both turned the big 3-0 this year; both while camping in the desert. Though our experiences were quite different, they were actually quite fitting for each. Josh's was a somewhat mellow camping trip in Joshua Tree (see "Infinite Empty Nest" blog entry). Mine...mine was a rager.

I LOVE Phish, in case you didn't know. So imagine my excitement when they announced a three-day festival in Indio (2.5 hours from my house), spanning my 30th Halloween birthday weekend! Of course we HAD to go. But we almost didn't. I had almost accepted the fact that we couldn't make it happen financially, and then burst into tears half-way through the month of October. The thought of all of my friends in the one place I could possibly want to be...without me...just made me burst.

Luckily, the sperm donor came through with a payment the very next day, kid you not - the first in months and months - and I promptly used that windfall to purchase my tickets! Thanks, douchebag!

I have to say it was the best birthday EVER. It was also the best Phish shows EVER. It was Josh's first Phish shows, and man was he treated like royalty. From the Moma Dance on the first night welcoming me in (my jam)...to Exile on Main Street as the musical costume (one of my favorite all time albums, and the one I was holding onto hope for)...to the holy-crap last two sets that had me higher and hotter than the flames shooting from the pumpkin-haystack-oil-rig-things...this weekend was made for ME.

Numerous times I caught myself saying "I'm too old for this shit." It's kinda true. I heavily injured my right knee and right ankle, to the point where I could barely walk by Sunday afternoon. I ended up in the medical tent at one point, trying to get them to wrap my entire body in ace bandages. Luckily, there is an abundance of pharmaceuticals available on any Phish lot, so I made it through the evening and continued to dance my ass off through the pain! I was fine as long as the music was going, and as soon as it would stop: "Ow. Waaaaah." Collapse.

But now I've been sleeping for two days, trying to recover. It certainly doesn't help that my child came home from school on Monday with a 102 degree fever and fucked up sinuses. Just as well. I get an excuse to take my time easing into my thirties, pretending that I can still party like my twenties, feeling like I actually just hit my sixties.

Thank you, Phish, for still joining me on my way into another decade. Thank you to all my loveys who helped me celebrate (OH did we celebrate!). And thanks to my soulmate for sacrificing so much for me all the time - but especially this time.

Best. Dirty. Thirty. Ever.

Landlords Continue to Suck (aka Part Three)

And.....we're OFF! Again. Or maybe not. I don't actually know right now.

I just know that we have HORRIBLE luck with landlords. I used to have the very BEST luck with landlords. I think I must have married into a curse, because Josh claims to have always had these problems. Lame.

So it turns out our landlord has lost the house. After months of hearing that we shouldn't worry; that he's worked things out with the bank; that everything is fine; it's actually not so fine. He even provided us with a new 1-year lease (that we have yet to sign) so that he could have something to show the bank, and we would have something to fight with, should we end up with a new owner that tries to make us move. We're dealing with a super shady real estate agent, whom we've caught lying to us not once - but twice. So we're done. We're over it. We're outta here.

We're officially squatting on the property right now. That's not out of spite - but out of confusion. We honestly have no idea who to pay rent to at this point! I tried to call our landlord, but his phone has been disconnected. I have never had an address for him. So...there's no way in hell I'm depositing money into his bank account if it's not rightfully his. I figure, if he wants his money, he'll call me. However, I intend to move and not deal with this shit anyway. So I would have given him a 30-day notice on the 1st, had I been able to. And, since we know that he is no longer in possession of our security deposit - I wouldn't pay the rent anyway, as a way of recovering what's due to me. What a fucking mess.

Our tentative plan is to stay here for another month or two, and not pay rent, and have someone - anyone - go ahead and proceed to evict us. Which may not even happen in that time frame, since no one seems to know who's property it even is. From what I understand, the eviction process takes a while anyway. And since our credit is a giant sad face anyway, an eviction really isn't going to make THAT much of a difference.

And before you go saying "Oh, Andie - you're so crazy - are you sure you want to do this?" Know this: it's not just us who are the crazy ones - our neighbors (it's a duplex) are doing the exact same thing. And they were actually advised by a real estate attorney (aka, one of their Dads) to do it this way. Power in numbers.

So far, I've applied to live on a commune in Topanga Canyon. We'll see what happens next.

Do You Know How Awesome This Guy Is?

This is my husband. He rocks. He was so very happy in this picture, and I love it. It was the first day of married life together, on our champagne brunch cruise the first day of our honeymoon. The world is a little more stressful these days, and this beautiful shining smile and twinkling eyes aren't around very much.

Let me tell you about my man. He is worthy of praise and I don't think he hears enough of it. Because he works harder than anyone I know. Harder than you; most certainly harder than me. It's not enough that he works for 12+ hours each day. No, because he still has to answer phone calls all night from random criminals. And then on Saturday, he has to go into the office for a few hours as well. At 7:00 a.m. every morning, his boss calls to check in and plan out the day. If his boss can't find a file (without even looking in the filing cabinet), he calls to see if Josh knows where it is. If someone doesn't feel like driving all the way over to the Valley to pick up something related to a case - you guessed it - Josh will have to go pick that thing up and deliver it to said person.

And it's not just the amount of time Josh puts in. It's his work ethic alone. He has a better work ethic than any person I have ever known in my entire life. I challenge you to introduce me to someone who pours as much of his heart and soul into any job he ever does, as much as Josh. When Josh was a manager at a pizza/brew pub in San Diego, he'd be the first one to go clean up the bathroom when someone threw up everywhere. If the waitresses or bussers were overwhelmed, he was right there clearing tables and delivering food. Or mopping the floor. Or taking out the trash. Or whatever needed to be done. And while this is what should be expected in any employee - it's just not the norm. And it's certainly not normal to do this all without complaining one single bit.

Then, when he comes home, it doesn't stop. He will do anything and everything I ask him to. I try not to ask very much, considering his sheer exhaustion. But if I did, he would do it. All of it. As it is, he is more than willing to wake up on a Saturday and do some dishes and some laundry because I suck as a housewife. I don't even have to ask for that. He walks the dog. He takes out the trash. He runs here and there for football practice and games and school stuff. He just never stops.

Aside from Josh's stamina (ahem...there's THAT too...but not for this venue), he is one of the most kind and patient men I have ever known. Truly soft and warm. Not a macho bone in his body. Don't get me wrong - he's a man to the core. No boy about him. But he doesn't need to prove that. He lives that. He is hilarious, sassy, witty, charming and loves with every fiber of his being. He will always be fair and loves to be the devil's advocate - always considering a different perspective. He is extremely intelligent, well-educated, well-read, and compassionate. He loves all of the Earth's creatures, big and small, even crazy ones like me. Which brings me to another point - his patience.

This man loves me. Oh how he loves me. More than any love I have ever felt aside from that of my Mother. He married me! If you know me, you know this is a great feat, requiring a great deal of patience and open-mindedness. He made a conscious decision to begin dating me with 2-year-old Taj in tow. He knew what that meant, and would never have gotten involved if he didn't intend to fully commit himself to the possibilities that lay ahead. It has been a wild ride, and I don't think any of us would have made it through on our own. We three complete each other.

At our wedding, more than one person came up to me and said "Andie, do you realize how much he loves you? I have NEVER seen a man look at a woman the way he looks at you." And it's true. The entire time, I'm laughing my ass off and think it's the most hilarious and FUN day of my life. And the entire time, he was dead serious and looking through to my soul. He surprised me by memorizing our vows, which I had decided we would just read because there were far too many details floating around in my head to memorize all that stuff too! He knew the ceremony better than me, and I wrote it! And he still wanted to marry me after I freaked out and screamed at him during a breakdown the morning of the wedding (this may be why you're not supposed to see each other beforehand). He's a good man.

I just want everyone to know this. Because right now he's not being appreciated as he should. He's kind of being taken advantage of. And that pisses me off to my core. Plus, I feel completely helpless because although I am ready to fight to defend and protect my man; I am in a position where I can't. So I just want the world to know that this awesome man - my awesome man - is better than that. The people who don't realize it are losing out. And most importantly, I'm afraid he's forgetting it himself.

So Josh....please don't lose who you are. Don't forget where you came from and what you've been through. Don't let anyone take away your strength and integrity or wear you down to hardly nothing. I will fight for you. I will lift you up. I support you, appreciate you, need you, want you, adore you...and most of all, I LOVE YOU.