Andy had a birthday last week and I'm still glowing with happiness for what turned out to be an awesome weekend. I "surprised" him with a couple of nights at the river cabin and a trip up the mountain for breakfast. I say "surprise" because I forgot to tell pretty much everyone else it was a surprise, and he woke up on his birthday to his phone blowing up with sweet texts, several of which said something like, "Happy Birthday, Andy! Have fun at the cabin this weekend!" He's all, Um, honey, what cabin? Oooopsie. Oh, sweet love, it was the best. Amelia sauntered around, free and excited and happy and big and loud and thrilled and thrilling. I sat and listened to the river, and watched the sun move, and smelled the pine. Andy crocheted (that's his squirrel head, Marty — Andy is such an amazing crocheter — he's cagey about his Ravelry page — I will get details) and chased Meems and threw rocks in the river. We had breakfast at beloved Timberline on Sunday morning and hiked a little way up the path behind the lodge, from which you can see a stunning view of Mt. Jefferson peeking above the valley (camera cannot capture the panorama here). On Monday morning we woke up to rain splashing the river. Everything so green. Birds singing. Flowers blooming. Baby marching. What a great weekend. Happy Birthday, my dear, sweet, amazing, wonderful, lovely, exceptional Andy Paulson. My true love. Happy, happy, happy birthday. I love you. Xoxoxoxoxoxoxo
