My exercise regimen over the last couple of years has gotten me a pretty sweet resting heart rate. I’m proud of this to a nearly stupid degree (seriously, have I accomplished so little in my life that the number of times one of my muscles squeezes in a minute is the best I have to offer? Another topic for another day.).

The great irony: the only place I get my pulse checked in any formal way is at the doctor or dentist. I’m always nervous at doctor and dentist appointments, so I get an emotional surge in BMP. It’s very annoying. Why I feel the need to show off my heart rate to medical professionals, I don’t know, but I do.  It feels like a waste of effort if the effects go undocumented.

Too bad doctors don’t accept homemade graphs as medical evidence.  It would be like walking up to a beauty pageant judge with a self-portrait made in Microsoft Paint entitled “The Most Beautiful Man in Iowa City” and demanding the crown.

I realize this doesn’t make sense to you because 1) Mac users don’t use Microsoft paint, and 2) I am not a man, and 3) that is a ridiculous thing to do, but it happened to a friend of mine.  Only it wasn’t a self-portrait; it was a portrait somebody made and left outside his door.  Then my friend moved to Seattle, which was probably smart.

On Saturday, Denny and I stopped by our beloved Deluxe Bakery to order our anniversary cake.  You see, when we were in negotiations for our wedding cake, the owner told us not to save the top layer and freeze it as per tradition, for eating on the first anniversary.  She said she doesn’t want anyone eating her cake after it’s been in the freezer for a year, because the quality would have degraded and it would besmirch her baking reputation.  Instead, she said to come in around our first anniversary and they’d give us a free mini cake.

We’re picking it up on Friday.  Our actual anniversary is Sunday, but since I have to leave that morning for Canada, we decided to make a Friday-and-Saturday of it.

Our wedding cake was so beautiful and delicious.   I can’t wait to have another taste.

I don’t even want to do an archive check, because I was probably wigging out.  I don’t think I got too stressed out about the wedding, compared to some other people I’ve seen (albeit mostly on television, where the lowest common denominator gets the most screentime), but I’m still glad I don’t have to do it again.