Failure of the Day: Leather/ Crystal

Today is our 3rd wedding anniversary. We will celebrate tonight by having a steak dinner on the living room floor, exchanging the awesome show tickets that we got each other (Laurie Anderson in Berkeley tomorrow night and Dana Gould on NYE), and watching my beloved OC.

There is a story about a one-year old me and the person who lived next door to my parents in San Leandro, who was blind and had a seeing-eye dog. (As opposed to the next door neighbor we had in Fremont who was also blind but did not have a dog. I’m not sure why my parents will only live next to blind people; I would think deaf neighbors would be a better bet, but I digress.)

Anyway, I apparently was lead around the neighborhood in something called a walker (which I understand is a kind of harness that keeps a pre-toddler upright in its attempts to be self-ambulatory), and the story goes that I would toddle up to this seeing eye dog, stick my finger square in its eye, and proclaim “Eyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyye!” And the dog merely sat there, patient and calm and utterly resigned to its fate.

Tonight, I will watch The OC and tell Chris in great detail about how Seth Cohen is my boyfriend and that I love him so. And Chris will sit with me, amused, with an astonishing amount of patience, and—if “resigned” is not the best way to describe it, then “at peace” is—with having married a complete pain in the ass who never fails to find his soft, vulnerable eye and stick my finger right in, by, amongst other things, spending our anniversary swooning over a fictional teenager and comparing him, my wonderful, non-fictional husband, to a dog.

And this is how much he loves me: he still comes away believing (wrongly, obviously) that he got the better end of this relationship.