Birthday

Happy birthday to Lizett yesterday. We enjoyed a fine family dinner and the girls came over to help decorate the cake. Claire inexplicably started weeping when we sang happy birthday--perhaps because, having grown unaccustomed to the ritual in the past several years, we sang in creepy, emotionless chorus, like zombies creeping forward to devour the birthday girl as the camera fades out. Then in an act of x-treme romance and sweep-her-off-her-feetery I gave Lizett a treadmill. I'm pretty sure she liked it, although I did hear her on the phone laughing in spanish--it's like her english laugh but to the tune of La Cucaracha--about the "idiota marido y su tapiz rodante no romántico".

So now we have a big sexy treadmill in the bonus room, and man was it a son of a bitch getting it up there. I had this absurd fantasy of having it all set up for her when she got home, but I couldn't even get it out of the van, and Dan, Lizett and I combined only got it halfway to the front door. In the end we called Todd over to help, standing in the cold waiting for 20 minutes before realizing a) we could have waited inside and b) we could have just opened the box and carried the pieces upstairs individually.

Suckaaaaaaaas!