Happy anniversary.

Over the last four years you’ve taught me how to appreciate your crazy way of communicating without talking. You’re a strong silent type, unless you’re talking smack during a heated game of Spades or Cranium.

I LOVE it when you talk smack.

You’re very even keel when it comes to emotions — which is a good thing, since I’m all over the map these days with my emotions, and generally a quick to temper control freak.

You laugh in the face of adversity — the man with no plan. I think that’s one of the best things you’ve taught me. I am quick on my feet and brilliant at troubleshooting when things don’t go according to plan, but oh, how I love the (my) plan. So naturally, when my predictable, planned, routine day is thrown for a loop (or when I can’t exercise in a month, and you know how addicted I am), and I’m in the middle of losing it, I have to admit… you’re pretty good at holding me together.

And it is wonderfully fun to laugh at the face of adversity.

You indulge me in a million little ways. Taking me to Alice Cooper concerts, and helping me find a suitable hijab for the occasion; truly indulging me in my many obsessions (marvel, star trek/wars, off-the-wall films, video games, Dr Who, DUNE, my blog); teaching me about your obsessions (star gazing, horse back riding, shooting, chess, scrabble {yuck!}, squash); and being patient with my penchant for engaging you in heated debates about everything. I love being the devil’s advocate. You just need to talk smack intelligently when I’m trying to beat you down with my well structured arguments.

You were brilliant at supporting me during Eryn’s birth. And you’ve illustrated too many times to count what an excellent dad you’ve become. Not many guys I know care enough about his daughter’s clothes to return a “little princess” tshirt because he believes she doesn’t need a false, external and unattainable representation of femininity. Thank you for encouraging me to write short stories for her so she can have exposure to strong, Muslim female characters.

I love your new sideburns.

Someone asked me how many light years we could travel together after being married four years. Ignoring that one is a measurement of time, and the other a measurement of distance: A light year is approximately 300,000*31,536,000=9,460,528,400,000 kilometers. Since we’ve been married four years, that’s 37,842,113,600,000km or about 4.2 light years.

Which happens to be the exact distance from the earth to Alpha Centauri, the closest and brightest star (outside of the sun).
I guess that means I’d travel to Alpha Centauri with you.

You’re adventurous and smart. We can get lost in Istanbul, or have to sleep on the streets of Tolouse — but it’s ok because we’ll do it with smiles, ingenuity, a lot of coffee, and each other.

I can’t wait to see what this year will bring.

ps…talk more smack. It’s hilarious.

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