“They say it’s your birthday!” ~ The Beatles

The other day, I was wandering around frantically checking calendars and Facebook because I just KNEW there was someone I knew who had a birthday that day. Around lunch, it hit me. It was Dipshit's birthday.

I've spent many a post disparaging Dipshit's character (for good reason, admittedly, but still), so I thought perhaps I should wave a temporary white flag and tell you some of the good things about him.

This is going to be a short post.

I'm kidding. Maybe.

Isn't it easier to remember the bad things rather than the good based on your level of contempt for a person?

Anyways… digressing again.

• Dipshit wrote wonderful letters. He really did. Never before or since have I met someone whose letter writing skills are comparable.
• He introduced me to the Griffin and Sabine series written by Nick Bantock. If you haven't already had the pleasure of experiencing the books, do so. 
• Dipshit had a way with animals. One day my mom went grocery shopping and bought a new box of Yums (Milkbones) for our dog Guinness. She put the majority of the box in a special Tupperware, and then left the remainder of the box sitting on the kitchen counter. Dipshit grabbed the remainder and "shared" them with Guinness.
• After he and I moved to Chicago, we adopted a bunny, Luca, and in 2002 adopted our cats, Pluto and Cosmo. He used to talk to them in wonderful voices.
• Our first Valentine's Day together, I was sicker than a dog (much like I was for this Valentine's). Dipshit made a lovely dinner of Cornish hens and wild rice pilaf, and got me a gorgeous negligee along with SimCity (yes, I wanted it). I was so sick, neither one of us truly enjoyed it.
• One day, Dipshit called me at work and we had a debate as to what to do for dinner. He volunteered to figure something out. That night, when I got off the elevator, an overwhelming scent of evergreen assaulted my nostrils in the hallway. The closer I got to our apartment, the worse the smell got. Turns out, Dipshit decided to do a rosemary crusted pork tenderloin. Except he made the recipe up himself. When we sat down to eat, the tenderloin was pretty much inedible due to the LARGE amount of rosemary used and we ended up ordering Chinese instead.
• One morning Dipshit and "the bunny" as he called her decided they were going on strike and weren't going to work. So we "all" called in and lounged around the house all day and then went to dinner and a movie later that evening.
• In the beginning he was great at little surprises. I'd come home from work and he'd have bought me the latest Dixie Chicks or Kid Rock cd.
• I have a tendency to spill food and beverages on myself, especially when I'm wearing white. He bought me a bib embroidered with a lamb on it for our wedding. He also made arrangements with our florist to have the clock I had been admiring in the shop wrapped and waiting for me to open at our reception.
• He's the one who insisted we have calla lilies at our wedding even after I told him the cost because he refused to do sunflowers since they were only my "second" favorite flower.
• Our honeymoon wasn't the greatest. The weather was rainy, wet and cold. Our drive home from the honeymoon was a disaster as we had both a tail light and a headlight go out on the trip in the middle of rainstorms. We stopped at a Kmart for replacement bulbs and Dipshit told me to go grab a CD from a new artist, Nora Jones, because he thought I'd like her and it might help us both relax for the duration of the ride. To this day, I smile and think of him (fondly) whenever I hear her voice.
• He once called me at work and asked me to run out to meet him (not an easy feat when you work on the 68th floor of a building). When I finally got out there, he had a bouquet of sunflowers and irises waiting for me that he'd picked up at a farmer's market.
• My great aunt Ruth loved using him as her personal escort. It was funny to watch considering he was 6'4" and my aunt barely topped 5'0".
• He used to laugh at my yelling and screaming and carrying on when we'd go to see the Tigers play the White Sox.
• Dipshit loved marshmallows. He ate them like candy. And he always managed to sniff out the bag no matter where I hid it in the pantry.
• He was a professional ironer. If that's even a word.
• He was smart enough not to let me drive when we drove around the Chicago suburbs and smart enough to toss me the keys when we were driving in Michigan.
• He knew that on our return trips to Chicago, we'd be stopping at Cracker Barrel.
• He was prepared to let me quit my job when things got really really bad at work. I called in one day to write my letter of resignation, but my manager got demoted on the same day so I didn't have to quit (it probably came as a huge relief).
• He was great with kids.
• He knew I couldn't have children and married me anyways.

In writing this post, I paused a lot. I smiled a lot. And I even giggled a time or two. There are even still moments when something will happen and I think, "He'd really get a kick out of this."

And I do wish him the best. Far away from me if possible, but the best.