It's hard to find a role model. I mean, I can't have someone in my family as a role model, because I know everything about them - good and bad. And it's impossible to idolize someone whose every flaw you know. But, at the same time, it's hard to admire someone famous, because you're afraid of what they might be hiding, that you'll never know. But, just the same, here are some people I admire:

Jesus
Mom
Aunt I
Dad
Aunt W
Wendy
Janet Jackson
Mariah Carey
Whitney Houston
Gabrielle Reese

Last week Rob and I dug through dusty boxes in the basement to find my high school diaries. I knew they were in a box somewhere, but I hadn't seen them since we got married. I was curious to read them, and also a bit anxious to confirm that they were in my possession and not stashed at my parents' house somewhere. I can only imagine my brother's delight if he discovered these diaries. Well, at least until he got to the descriptions of my make-out sessions. Or to my proud report of the first time I successfully inserted a tampon.

We eventually found the diaries and since then I've been immersed in the past, reliving literally every day of my high school life. For my freshman year, that means reliving every day of my obsession with Rob. Which was pretty much exactly as I remembered it, only even more pathetic.

We also found The Email Binder. My senior year of high school, Rob went off to college and so we emailed all the time. Back and forth, many times each day. And I printed out every single email from him. Every Single Email. Printed them out, hole-punched them, and stuck them in a binder. A three-inch binder. No, really. I have three vertical inches of emails. And those are just the ones he wrote.

I quickly grew bored of perusing the diaries, but I've been absolutely delighted to read Rob's emails. I'd forgotten what he was like back then, what we were like.

"I'd forgotten" I said to Rob last evening as I was poring over the emails, "that you always started your emails to me with 'Hey toots'."

"Yeah, I'd forgotten that, too."

"That's so cute. You never call me toots anymore."

"I never called you toots then, either, except in email."

"Aww, you signed this one, 'Longingly, Rob'."

"Uh-huh," he replied as he headed to the kitchen.

"You never long for me anymore," I whined, following him.

"I don't need to. You're right here."

"You used to play guitar for me," I continued while sliding plates into the dishwasher. "And you used to tell me how great I looked, and you especially liked it when I wore skirts. And you'd say all the time that I was 'irresistible'. You never call me irresistible anymore."

"And you never wear skirts anymore." He handed me some dirty silverware.

"We used to be so intense. We used to yearn. And now...well, now we load the dishwasher," I sighed.

"Come on, this is quality time right here," he said ironically, and then grinned. (One thing that hasn't changed? His grins still make me want to strip off all my clothes.)

Tonight after dinner, and after we loaded the dishwasher, he dug out his guitar. I watched as he played. Time has passed, but still his tenderness is apparent. His style is different, but still it's a beautiful expression. The songs have changed, but still the strings sing beneath his fingers.