That is my handsome future hubby and I.
Today is his 28th birthday.
He doesn't read my blog, and I'm about 4 glasses of pinot in, but I'm typing this as he enjoys some Call of Duty, post meatloaf.
To my handsome man:
I love you. Seriously. No one has ever made me laugh like you do, or cringe like you make me. You're an incredible man in many senses. You'll be an amazing father, so far you're a pretty dang good fiancé, and as a husband, I think you'll do just fine. You sing weird songs and talk to me about your "Jason TV Land" (Oh, no, I said his name! Oh well.) which always makes me giggle.
You cook awesome food, and I learn something from you in the kitchen every day. Your farts have personality. I'm not kidding. Everyone one of them sounds like your butt is talking. You also try hard to point them away from me, which I really appreciate.
Your family treats me like family. Your sisters are like the sisters I never had. They are so sweet to me. Everyone of your family members has done nothing but make me feel like I belong there.
I can't wait to get a dog with you, then have kids with you eventually. Some day. Maybe. But let's enjoy ourselves first. If not forever.
All in all, I guess I just kind of love you. A little. Okay, maybe a whole lot.
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