July 3rd 1993
Maris always asks me what I would like for dinner. I find this extremely frustrating. Firstly, she is not asking me what I would like her to prepare. Why the last time she helped prepare a meal was last Thanksgiving and she almost hurled projectile vomit when she was helping to stuff the turkey and her hand inadvertently slipped inside the bird. Also, when she asks what I want for dinner, she has no interests in my tastes or wants. Instead it is more of a guessing game to try to guess what she wants.
On an outside note, Frasier and I went shopping last week and he found a painting that he couldn't live without. It's a Martha Paxton, a local artist. Well, I have prepared myself for his gloating on this for the next several months.
I had to rush Maris in for a dental emergency the other day. It appears that she has cracked a tooth. The ironic part of it was she was eating a gluten-free, starch-free thin wafer-cracker. Poor thing doesn't smile as much as she used to.