Birthday Card

After a 4 hour long happy hour I raced home to get my damn work clothes off. Not so much because they were uncomfortable but because I have insane sunburn and couldn't wait to go commando. As I walked in the front door, the boy bellows "there might be birthday cards on the table for you". Ah yes, my birthday is tomorrow (although I've been celebrating all weekend). Two cards were in fact waiting for me- one with Jess scribbled on the front and one with Mom written on it. The boy insisted I open the one from the Tuck first that oddly enough had picture of the Tuck on the front. Well, the Tuck's twin anyway ( I mean, if we're not getting royalties for that pic it must not be our dog, right?!).

Moving along, the next card was from the boy. He couldn't have called Hallmark and said "put a, b, and c in this card" to make it anymore perfect. We are not a sappy couple. He doesn't plan elaborate dates or buy outlandish gifts on the reg. But he's thoughtful. When he goes to the store he brings me home kit kats and cokes. When I'm sick he comes home on his lunch to check on me. He makes me breakfast in bed occasionally and tells me he loves me just because. And this card expressed just that.

There were lines about having too much pride and being a jerk, lines about dancing with me and telling gross jokes, lines about never being on time and letting me do all the work. But it ended with how he may not be perfect but he's perfectly him. And it's true. Our relationship is a far cry from perfect. We fight, we cuss at one another, we go to bed angry and say things we don't mean. But we love each other. Good, bad, or indifferent. At the end of every day I'm just happy I share my life with him. The small moments, the big moments, and every moment in between.

I'm thankful to spend another birthday with him. Especially since I get the day off from having to walk the dog. Score.

Avoiding Death

Over the course of the last several weeks my office has been bombarded with healthcare related calls. I'm talking 100s and 100s of calls- some good, some bad, some down right crazy. One even included a death threat. So of course, my office did what any sane office would do when some threatens the big D- the police were called.

I on the other hand proceeded to text the boy (who had taken a day and a half off of work to sit directly in front of a 50" tv to watch a ball be dribbled back and forth on a court for approximately 40 minutes- until the last two minutes in which when he proceeds to vehemently yell at the tv).

Upon learning I may be blown to smithereens he responds with "sweet, I'm buying a beamer with your insurance money". Apparently he forgets my salary pays the mortgage, which would make him the little old man who lived in the bmw. Except he's not little...or old. But you get the point.

Anyway, that conversation reminded me of a VERY similar conversation we had a couple years ago. I was redic sick with a winter cold- I'm talking fever, snotty nose, a productive cough. Basically, a whole wintery mess up in my nasal passage. I told the boy I was pretty sure this cold was going to be the death of me (surely I had some incurable form of pneumonia) Without thought, he asked if he could have my computer chair...

Apparently, my dying is going to be a beneficial phase in life for him. Or at least he must think so as it is very clear he is nonplussed about my safety.

In fact, I'm beginning to wonder if he called in that death threat...

Happy Birthday My Love

Tomorrow (or in one hour and 26 minutes..he's not counting) the love of my life will turn 24.

Happy birthday to the most amazing man I know.

I love your sense of humor, how you make faces at me just to make me smile. I love how you cuddle with me 15 minutes before we get up in the morning. I love how you're perfectly content staying in on a Saturday night. I love that you love the dog just as much as I do...or maybe even more. I love your brown eyes. I love that you go to every work function that I ask you to go to with minimal complaint. I love that you dance with me in the kitchen (even when there isn't music playing). I love that you kiss my cheek in public. I love that you love me. And most of all, I love you.

Bedtime Stories

The best part of living in our very own house is that we can do what we want, when we want, where we want. Living with another couple can-er, interrupt things. Or can cause one set of roommates to think someone is trying to break in during the middle of the night when in all actuality it's just the other couple's headboard. Yes, that makes for a very awkward encounter in the middle of the night.

So, last night when I let my goodnight kiss linger a little longer than usual, the boy in all his charm and suaveness asked me "Sooo, DTF?..." He didn't even use the phrase, just the three little letters.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have one classy future husband. I swear, I'm not sure I how I keep the ladies away from him, I mean with all that game he has it's a wonder they aren't lined up at my door. I guess it's a good thing he only has eyes for me.

Old Time Memories

The boy is half-Italian, half-Irish. So, of course, we had to join in on the St. Paddy's day activities...to celebrate his heritage an all. Not because we just wanted an excuse to get hammered on a Wednesday. Not us.


The boy and I brought along one of our good friends, R brought along one of her good friends, and along the way we made a couple new good friends. After a few beers and some amazing crab dip, we started sharing. Sharing about bar experiences, ex's, and anal (don't ask). All the talk of old memories brought back one very fond V-day memory that is still funny, almost 7 years later.


It was Valentine's day circa 2002. The boy planned a very special dinner out but unfortunately, I came down with a nasty stomach bug. Our hot steamy night out turned into a rather dull, sleepy night on my mom's couch.


Let me interrupt my own story for a minute to give you an idea of the boy's choice of apparel back then. He wore basketball shorts over his boxers and under whatever type of pants he chose-every day. He also corresponded his shirt with said basketball shorts. He claims it was because his boys used to pants him...I'm not sure his excuse for the matching shirt...


Anyway, at some point (prior to the boy's redic early curfew) my dad called and asked us to come over. The boy had stripped down to just the basketball shorts so we could comfortably lay under a blanket without feeling like we were in the Middle East. I groggily respond "Sure Dad, as soon as the boy puts his pants back on".


Yeah, that wasn't an uncomfortable visit at all.