To my angel, Berlin.

I know you can't read this. But I was just sitting here by myself thinking about you. As you know, today is your birthday. After much anticipation, three years ago, you came into my life.



It was the first time I had ever cried tears of joy. Little did I know, it would become a regular occurrence thanks to you. In fact, I can't seem to fight the tears right now as I write this. And I guess it's a good thing you can't read, because I can't even begin to think of the words to describe how much I love you. Suffice it to say, you have been my greatest accomplishment in life.



Somehow just the thought of you makes all my troubles fade and I know there's nothing in this world I can't overcome as long as I have you. It's funny, sometimes when I'm at work, I'll pull your picture up on my computer and just stare at it, sometimes for over an hour. I look into those big, beautiful, brilliantly innocent eyes and see the confirmation of Heaven.



I just wanted you to know that the last three years have been the most meaningful years I have ever known. You've changed me like I cannot describe. I'll forever be thankful for that. You are my pride. You are my joy. You are my littles and my teenies. You are my littlest Linnies Lous. Happy Birthday, princess. Happy Birthday.



PS: I got you a Beach for your Birthday present. The rest of the world calls it a Powerwheels Jeep, but, for some reason, you call it a Beach. So, as far as I'm concerned, the rest of the world is wrong. Beach it is.

Anybody who knows me will tell you, I am not a pet person.

Yes, that's right. I'm not a fan of pets. That includes cute little kittens, cuddly puppies and even giggly little clown fish - all fine and dandy I'm sure, just not for me. Perhaps it has something to do with my anal retentiveness. Who knows. A few days ago a co-worker called me in a panic. He and his wife were leaving town and their dog sitter had to cancel at the last minute. Now, said co-worker must be trained in some kind of Korean mind trickery because somehow I agreed to watch his dog for the week.

So last night I did what I thought any dog owner would do and took Sol (the dog) for a walk around our neighborhood. It seemed pleasant at first. But then I noticed Sol would stop at every single plant along the way, lift his leg and squirt a quick shot of doggie pee on it. It was like clockwork. By the time we made it down the block, every day lilly, every tulip, every patch of crab grass was drooping in shame.

Suddenly we approached a yard with three baby pine trees in the front year, about two feet tall. After Sol politely squirted the first two he approached the third. Curiously, he mounted the tree. Um, okay, I thought. I figured he had an itch on his hind end or something and was using the pine needles to scratch it. But then it hit me. His hind legs began to flex.

NO, SOL!

It was too late. He proudly dismounted the tree revealing a precisely carved tube o' excrement, of which he laid lovingly ON THE TREE. Yes, on the tree. Like a festive holiday ornament. Oh crud, I thought. I have to clean this up don't I? Just then I realized I had nothing of which to clean it up with.

So what did I do? I made a break for it.

Maybe nobody saw me. Maybe I'm off scott free. Or maybe I'll arrive home tonight to the scene of an angry mob of HOA members armed with paper bags of dog poo, cocked and ready to hurl in my general direction. Either way, I'm only into this doggy journey one day and I've already learned a valuable lesson. I'm still not a pet person.

Have you ever wondered what it looks like when I post a blog?

Well, thanks to a little combo of modern technology and engineering genius (on my part), you're going to find out. The following video was shot while I posted this very blog. Yes, right now, as I type this, I'm being filmed. No post trickery. No fancy Hollywood gizmos. Don't believe me? Here, I'll hold up this blue sharpie. See? It's clearly blue.

It's marvels like this that make me cease to wonder. Just what will they come up with next?



And no, you can't have that minute of your life back. Sorry.

Here's to a life forever changed.

Nine years ago, a sudden loss of breath gave significance to my life. The world I knew unexpectedly receded as she walked into the room. Sound escaped my ears. Breath escaped my lungs. A coffer inside me shattered and poured unknown emotion throughout my frame. I tried to revert, but I was frozen in her sight. Taken. Nearly paralyzed. Somehow words formed, spoken to bachelors seated beside me. "I'm going to marry that girl."

Two years later, I did.

And I've yet to recover. I doubt I ever will.

Hailey, here's to giving my life meaning, indescribable rapture and optimism of eternities.

Happy Seventh Year Anniversary. I forever love you.

Thank you, Jaimers.

Excellent post. The walk down memory lane was nothing short of fantastic. And for that, you get a Greetings from Boulder sign!

I won! I won! I won all you hot pink dress-wearing, bald haters!

So, in honor of my award winning, cleavage showing dress, I've decided to dedicate this guest blog to Mrs. Steve (who's cleavage rivals yours, mine and your grandma's put together) and their (Steve and Mrs. Steve's, not the boob's) relationship as I have known it.

Mrs. Steve and I met years ago as college freshmen. Provo blew so we transferred up to the University of Utah together where most of our time there is a blur. Inference?

We lived in the Avenues with our lovable albeit crazy (and I say this because I love you) roommate Jillers, and a menagerie of randoms who needed a place to crash and a futon to pee on. I'll get to that later...

After moving to Washington D.C. for a semester, I missed my Mrs. Steve. She came out to visit. With this photo in her pocket. And a few more in her purse. "I'M IN LOOOOOVE!" She cooed.

Now, no disrespect, Steve, but I kind of just stared at her. "You're in love with a teenage boy in a junkyard with a guitar, snowboard and a slight goatee?"

"Yesssssssss! Isn't he the cutest! And he skateboards!" She sing-songed back to me.

I wondered if he ollied inside that broken down bus. Because THEN I would understand the coolness. But she soon explained these were his senior pictures and he was , at that time, a matured RM she'd spotted out at the ol' singles ward. Sh*t. I was losing my best friend to a guy who handed out his senior pictures as love tokens. BUT.

But then I came home and met Steve. And I thought he was great. He thought I hated him. We fought. We forgave. We forgot. We moved into the condo just below he and his roommates. He put up with a lot. When I say a lot, I mean, well, a lot. Let's make a small sampling of what a lot means:
1. Mrs. Steve making out with 90's rockstars. Don't knock it till you try it. But still.
2. Mrs. Steve flying to other states to make out with 90's rock stars.
3. Getting his eyebrows groomed by said crazy roommate Jillers (love you!)
4. Getting told to go home whilst in the middle of getting LDS-approved action by said crazy roommate Jillers because "Hailers needs to go to bed!"
5. Sitting on our futon, feeling strange liquid seeping into his pants from futon cushion, smelling strange liquid, declairing strange liquid now all over him as, in Steve's exact words, "Sick, I just sat in piss!" Only to find out Jillers let some random crash on our couch who had apparently drank to much, "pissed himself" (again, Steve's words, not mine) and hailed a cab to save himself some embarrassment. And all Steve wanted to do was take his love to breakfast.

The list goes on. But through it all, Steve endured and got the girl in the end. And they make an amazing team and I love them both and their darling children.

I'm sure when Steve finally married Hailey he was glad to be rid of her crazy roommates. Until he met his father-in-law.

I'd like to welcome Jaimerly Jaimes to the show.

Shortly, the very first SteveHappens guest blogger will post. I can hardly stand the anticipation. Knees weak. Palms sweaty. Mouth dry. Bald.

Welcome to the Steve Happens Show, our first guest is?

That's right, folks. It's high time I invited a guest blogger on this show. Said guest will be given one post to post whatever they want. To apply, simply answer the following questions in the comment section of this post. The guest blogger will be accepted based on said answers.

1. Do you consider yourself "Mature for your age?"

2. What was the last time you threw up, and what was it?

3. Did you have a childhood attachment such as a blanket, pillow or favorite toy? If so, what did you call it?

4. If TV's Charles in Charge were to find himself in an altercation with TV's Fred Savage, who do you think would win?

5. If you were asked to wear a hot pink dress to a wedding reception, would you accept said invitation?

6. Am I balder than you? And is balder a word?

7. On the Lost season finale last week, whose funeral did Jack attend (albeit he was late)?

8. Do you (or did you) ever like the band, Collective Soul?

9. If you do/did like Collective Soul, are you ashamed of it?

10. What's something you've never told anybody before?


BONUS (NOT MANDATORY, BUT HIGHLY ENCOURAGED)

In the traditional form of Japanese Haiku, tell me why you should be the guest blogger. (Note: A Haiku is seventeen total syllables in three lines. The first line has five, the second line has seven, and the third line has five.)