m: “i think i liked organic chemistry because we would occasionally make things thst smelled like bananas.”

“did you put on shimmer?”
“no, i put on that burt’s bees chalky stuff that protects you from the sun.”
“oh…your lips are pink.”
“i pressed hard.”

much giggling ensued.

“What’s this called?” j inquired, pointing to the small well above m’s upper lip but below her nose.
“The philtrum, or the velum. I think it’s the velum,” m replied. Then a tiny smirk crept across her face. She looked at j. “You have a Netter. Look it up.”
[it gets better. friendly banter continues as we debate whether or not i can recap this conversation on our blog because of the Netter reference.]
m responds by listing off all the different occupations that use a Netter: anatomy illustrator, physical therapist, nurse, nurse anesthetist…(slight pause)…serial killer. Again a smirk. j bursts out giggling.

after m leaves for work, j finds Netter who says it’s the philtrum – plate 45.

yesterday, feeling quite proud of myself, i went online and bought something for m and then i called a restaurant in santa monica and, upon discovering they are closed on mondays, quickly proceeded to opentable on my blackberry to book a dinner for saturday june 26 – our anniversary.

except our anniversary is not until july 27.

m finds this series of events quite hilarious. and not wholly unexpected.

(truthfully, it’s not the date confusion that she expected – that part is actually quite surprising. it’s the fact that i actually bought something for her and made a dinner reservation.)

m retorts: “that’s underwear.”

it’s true. depends are underwear. and i was (am?) an english major. so i should be able to come up with a more sophisticated way of answering questions, right? but i’m prone to rambling and over-analyzing and failing to commit so my first instinct is to waffle and say “that depends.” this journey is far from over…

driving thru chinatown:
“didn’t we walk this street? oh yeah. we did. I know. I only see the tree. I never see the forest.”
“no, honey. you don’t even see the tree. you see the bark and the ants on the bark and the lice on the ants. me? I don’t even know the tree exists.”

so true.

i shouldn’t fight it, but i do. when m wants to moisturize my hands in the winter with gooey l’occitane shea butter and i don’t want gooey hands, i say to her protest by kicking and screaming and then she says: “you are the verbena of my existence.” (gawd, i’m such a twat…) i think i doth protest too much.

she was trying to write my name in lights. but all i see are weiner dogs...

i heart my honey so much that i would cover the refrigerator 5 times over with her art. might help us stay thinner, too.