I taught myself to knit this weekend. Okay, it's probably more accurate to say I sorta know how to knit, since my productions thus far look like they were created by a four year old with serious motor control issues, but at least I have the concept down now!

I've also been watching the Discovery Channel's "Deadliest Catch." It's a reality series about crab fishermen in the Bering Sea. I'm profoundly grateful this show wasn't around when Bryan was on the Midgett and part of his job involved patrolling the Bering to provide support to fishermen and monitor the maritime boundaries. I used to worry about him as it was, but seeing the storms and the high seas that these guys are out in - well, consider that the Coast Guard's the one who goes to rescue these guys when they get into trouble, and it's enough to turn your hair white!

So it seems fitting on this Memorial Day to take a moment and remember those who have given their lives for our country...

Tom Cruise is just...creepy.

Bryan has duty today, so I went to the movies and saw The DaVinci Code (I had read the book already) and Mission: Impossible III. Both were pretty good, but I was repeatedly struck by two things during MI 3. 1) The movie should have been called "Tom Cruise for Two Hours," as none of the other actors (even the very tasty Jonathan Rhys-Myers) have any interesting lines or stunts. And 2) Tom Cruise is just creepy. Like scary-cult-leader-creepy. There was no difference between the role he was playing and the interviews he's given, which has led me to the conclusion that there is no "real" Tom Cruise, it's ALWAYS a role for him.

Don't drink the Kool-Aid, Katie.

I'm glad it's a three day weekend. This past week at work has been a rough one. I'm sure from the outside, my job sounds very rewarding - helping people hear better with hearing aids, diagnosing hearing losses and educating patients and their families. Unfortunately my job involves managing physician egos, explaining to people in denial that no, actually, the rest of the world is not composed of poor enunciators, it's their hearing, and explaining that despite the high price tag, no hearing aid will give you perfect, natural hearing. I have some patients that are absolute gems, who thank me, who are polite and who occasionally bring wonderful treats like cookies or candy. But for every one of those, I seem to have three or four people who are determined to suck the life out of me.

These are the folks who insist on talking on their cell phones during a hearing test (the phone they were asked to turn off when I brought them back, and the same phone that rang while I was trying to determine their hearing thresholds). They are the folks that bring their hyperactive toddler to their test appointment. (Hint: it needs to be quiet for me to find the quietest sounds you can hear. Leave junior at home.) These are the folks who, despite being told over and over and over that a hearing aid is going to make their own voice sound different, complain "But my voice doesn't sound like it should!"

I'm burned out. The docs always run late, and even though I get paid overtime, I still have to stay until the docs are done with clinic. Overtime isn't worth it when they tax it so much that you take home less per hour than your regular hourly rate.

So the opportunity to veg today was one I can't turn down. We don't have major plans for the weekend - some grilling, maybe a trip to Julian or braving the crowds at Sea World. Some housecleaning and laundry, and a trip or two to the dog park.

We have a new audiologist starting next week, and I'm seriously hoping that I'll get a little more of a breather. I'm not sure I can handle another week of breaking the news to parents that their child has an irreparable hearing loss.

Bryan asked me over the weekend if I'd decided who I was going to root for in the Stanley Cup Finals.

This is not a decision to be taken lightly.

Since the Wild didn't even make the first round of the playoffs, I was a bit adrift when it came to choosing a team. In the first round, I was cheering for Dallas (sorry Joan and the rest of the Pitneys, but the Avs made it through anyway!) since there was a former Wild player on there. Alas, Dallas was knocked out by the Avalanche. At that point, I told Bryan (with a great deal of frustration) that it was simply too soon for me to make a decision, since I didn't relish the thought of each of my teams getting knocked out. I told him once it was more narrowed down, then I'd decide.

My back up was Edmonton, since they have a former Wild player as the goalie, and he's been doing very well. Now that things are down to the Oilers and Ducks for the Western conference and Buffalo and Carolina for the Eastern conference, I have made my decision.

If Edmonton advances, then I'm rooting for Edmonton. If the Ducks advance, then I'm rooting for whoever-is-not-the-Ducks.

An easy choice, as I can't stand those damned ducks.

Go Oilers!

Sunday was Bryan's and my one year anniversary. Hard to imagine that a year before we (and many of our closest friends and family) were sweltering in 100+ degree weather in Vegas.

Things I've learned in a year of marriage (in no particular order):

1. Being married really isn't that different from living together. Except I have a different last name on about half my stuff. (Note to self: Finish changing name!)
2. People make weird assumptions when you're married, like you're supposed to be joined at the hip and get upset when one part of the pair goes out without the other half.
3. There are a hundred, thousand reasons why I'm glad I'm married to Bryan, and I still continue to discover new ones as time goes by.
4. Suggesting "Hockey Tickets" as an ideal anniversary present (the first year is Paper, according to...Hallmark or somebody) will get you such a weird look that you'll rapidly decide it's best to just go out to dinner and skip the whole gift thing.
5. Even though you agreed not to exchange gifts, the best husband in the world will walk in the door with gorgeous flowers to remind you that he loves you.
6. My parents and grandparents set a very high standard. My grandparents were married for sixty seven and a half years before my grandmother passed away in February 2005. They had their ups and downs, and they were an unlikely match in a number of ways, but they made it work. And my grandfather was devoted to the very end. My parents have been married twenty four years, and have set a good example of flexibility, maintaining a strong, healthy relationship without having to be joined at the hip, and (occasionally) the projectile characteristics of citrus. Enough said.
7. I'm lucky to have found someone that I can be completely myself with, who will gently chide me when I wander off track, who will celebrate my successes and banish my bad days. And who will always be the one to phone in the pizza order.

I love you Bryan!

Please.

Sincerely,

Gina K. Wallace