awe....wait for it....some

The husband and I love Neil Patrick Harris.

Any one who takes the time to get to know us, knows that the husband and I don't have that much in common, big picture wise. Which is to be expected when an IT guy from a small, farming community in Utah marries an Art History major from a capitol in the deep south. Oh, sure, we both share a deep love for the music of Michael Jackson and cooking, but I still get excited when we stumble upon another shared interest to add to our little list.

This is done by exposure. Slow and gradual exposure to all of the random things in our lives that the other has not tried. We have some hits - farmer's markets; we have a lot of misses - guns, cars, museums - but in general we're both tolerant and loving enough to accept each other for our own little quirks. (It also helps that we're ridiculously in love with one another.)

Which is why when the husband took so fondly to How I Met Your Mother, I was delighted. We don't own a T.V. The husband grew up without a T.V. So when I say that he loves Neil Patrick Harris, it's not because of Doogie Howser, M.D. - a show that had to be carefully explained to him over the course of several evenings. It's not because of his work on Broadway. It is not even because of Dr. Horrible's Sing-a-long Blog. His love for Neil Patrick Harris is solely due to the character of Barney Stinson on CBS's How I Met Your Mother. That womanizer of womanizers, suit wearing champ. And as another Tuesday descends upon us, allowing us to upload last night's episode, I just want to give a small nod to a hilarious (and equally frivolous) part of our lives.

Neil Patrick Harris, here's to you. Please keep us laughing.