Limitations

I believe that the Barenaked Ladies' song "If I Had A Million Dollars" is the best way to describe the challenge of my wife's birthday. I have built a tree house in our yard. I didn't buy her a nice green dress (that would be cruel), but I did get her a nice pink dress. I bought her some art, but not a Picasso or Garfunkel. I bought her a house, and some nice furniture for her house. We have a pet, but she's a dog and not exotic like a llama or an emu. But we do eat a lot of macaroni and cheese, so I suppose the checklist is more or less complete, with the possible exception of a K-car (a nice reliant automobile).
I know that until I deliver a pony, I'm still coming up short. My wife has enjoyed many personas over the years: Tangerine, Miss Art Deco, Ubermom, and Queen of the Three-Fold Brochure. But I know that way down deep, she's a cowgirl at heart. When we were constructing my son's bed, raising it high enough off the floor to allow the massive number of Legos to be stored safely beneath it, there was a moment where we paused. Before we put the bed frame on top, she noticed that we had built a tiny corral. She nearly cried.
So once again, I've let her down. I know the Sweetheart of the Rodeo will go another year without riding the range. I know she won't complain, but maybe she'll believe the old Loudon Wainwright line about the pet store being all out ponies.