As an omen of things to come, Guthrie's entrance into the world was backwards. Eight years later, his backwards tendencies still shine and make him fantastically unique. He's a fantastically creative, sensitive, wonderful, intelligent human being. He's an artist with pen, paint and clay. A phenominal legotarian. A master of found object art. He is also an accomplished author and storyteller.

Eight years ago this morning he was a bundle of sleeping quietude. Probably a very good thing at the time since he kept my partner and I quite busy through the previous night. At times, he's still that same little helpless bundle, snuggled in his bed at night; breathing quietly and slightly smiling, dreaming. During the day, however, he's a whirlwind of activity and ideas, creativity embodied in human form. What a fantastic gift he was eight years ago. What a fantastic gift he is today.

Happy Birthday, Guthrie!