Trust me. You don't want to read on. First, I read a little Nicholas Sparks this summer. Then I listened to a bit of Josh Groban recently. I've temporarily lost my male ability to bottle up all emotions inside. Don't say I didn't warn you. But here's the thing: when I picked up Diane at the airport Sunday afternoon, I was surprised all over again by her beauty. How can that be after so many years? To be honest, I hadn't really missed her for the couple days she was in Houston. (It's one of our private little secrets--that, while we love being together, we also don't mind a day or two alone! She was in Houston; Chris was on the middle school campout. I was pigging out on play-off games.) There are so many things that I love about Diane that I had no idea about so many years ago. I love how much children love her. Recently, a third grader (whom she taught in 2nd grade last year) came up to hug her after school and said, "Mrs. Cope, look in my backpack." Inside was her treasure trove: every note that Diane had written to her last year. "You're like a mother to me," the little girl said. Right now she's gone to work out. But before that this evening, we sat and listened AGAIN to MLK's "I Have a Dream" speech. I love how, after so many times, it still touches her. I love how when (as happened at least once when she joined me someplace where I was speaking) a woman came up to her and said "It must be wonderful being married to him!" she just smiled and said, "Oh, yes." Fighting the gag reflex is one of her strengths. I love how she loves her boys and her daughter-in-law. And, of course, I love the memories of her with Megan. I love how she'll stay at church as long as someone wants to talk--even though it drives me nuts when I'm tired. I love watching movies with her, eating out at a nice restaurant with her, and grabbing burgers off the grill to watch "Raymond" with her. Things are only half as funny when she isn't watching with me. I love her low threshhold of tolerance for "look-in-the-mirror-and-tell-yourself-how-much-God-loves-you" exercises. At moments like that she comes within an inch of falling off the cliff of explosive laughter. . . . And I have the gift of sending her over that precipitous cliff. I love her laugh. The best laugh I've ever heard. Angels applaud. Sorry. Soon I'll get back to more trivial things, which is where I really excel.