Good Man started scanning them, then waved a piece of paper around. "What's this?"

"Your W-2."

"Where did it come from?"

I was confused. "Huh? I pulled it out of our fiscal year 2011 file."

"But how did you get this? I didn't print it off."

"It came in the mail."

"But why?"

I stared at him in disbelief. I have always done the taxes (except for the one year we paid someone else), but I couldn't believe he didn't know what it was. "So we could do our taxes...?"

Good Man laughed, "But why haven't I seen it?"

I stole one of Good Man's phrases. "Oh. My. God."

"No, really, why haven't I seen this? I didn't know I made that much money."

"I guess because I did all of our taxes!"

He grinned, "Oh, that must be it!"

"I'm not crazy. I am wise," Good Man replied.

"No, you're not old enough to be wise."

"What?"

"Wisdom has this implication of age. It's like being smart, but with the benefit of age."

Good Man laughed. "So 'smart' is like cabbage and 'wisdom' is like kimchi?"

"Exactly."

‎"You are Brazil squirrel. Samba squirrel!"

I don't know why Good Man calls me a squirrel more often than he calls me any other animal. He has no explanation.

A few nights ago, Good Man made dinner (samgyeopsal).

"I can cook!"

"This is really good," I agreed, "But there's a lot. Maybe we should save some for tomorrow."

"Oh no. Cooked pork in the fridge? It's not healthy."

I stared at him.

"Yeah," he said, "[GoodMan]pedia.org. Look it up."

We haven't seen each other since the wedding nearly three years ago, when Mother gave him a bottle of 17 year-old whiskey that he couldn't take home since he only had carry-on luggage. If he waits one more year, the whiskey will legally be able to drink itself.

We spent about an hour together before I realized he'd cut his hair. I don't think I've ever seen him with hair this short!

With Dad

When I ask him questions about Big Life Decisions, he talks, listens, but basically tells me whatever I want is fine. Then he waits until I talk myself into his position. It could be minutes, weeks, or months later. When I finally completely change my mind 180 degrees, he just smiles.

I'm on to him, though.

"Can you live forever? Marry the wrong spouse, and every day will feel like an eternity. Marry the right spouse, and life will be joyful and perhaps even a rich experience."

Thomas Stanley, author of Millionaire Next Door and other millionaire-mindset books

Yesterday I was telling a story about something or other. One of my students looked at me and said, "You know, based on your stories about your husband, I think one of your shiny parts [talents] is picking a spouse."

This was after another student informed me I must "be rich, because [my] life is so interesting."

My seventh grade science teacher had worked in the Peace Corps in Western Samoa. She used to tell stories of her life in Western Samoa, about being able to watch the sun set on the entire world because of time zones. I thought that was the neatest thing ever.

She loaned me a tape of Western Samoan music so I could make a copy. She begged me to be very careful with it. I made a copy, and a few months ago, I actually converted that tape to MP3. I now play that music in my classroom for my students, actually.

I wanted to travel like she had. I wanted to have adventures like she had. I wonder if one of these kids will grow up and want to travel because of my stories.

I tracked my old teacher down and emailed her, thanking her for her stories. Maybe that little note will keep her going the rest of her school year.