Where Everybody Knows Your Name

I've never considered myself very emotional. I probably cry 3-4 times a year. But compared to my husband, I'm a bawling boob.

Brad shed his last tear the first time he saw Old Yeller die, which must have been over 15 years ago. Hasn't cried since.

Until last night.

We were watching the following Dr. Pepper commercial:


Then it was over. And Brad quipped, "I might be getting choked up."

The thought of him getting emotional over the Cheers song was, frankly, hilarious.

I laughed. And I turned toward him in time to see a little pool of saltwater resting in his crow's feet.

Leaving our friends in Carlsbad is obviously taking its toll. That, or the hydrocodone easing his toothache is also disabling his stoicism.

Maybe both.