Joe's birthday is today, Valentine's Day. Celebrations were in order. Cards were exchanged. Possibly a little tongue. And since we hate going to fancy restaurants on amateur night, we went low key: a delicious romantic dinner at Five Guys (where he had full permission to check Facebook on his phone, it is his birthday after all and I'm not an ogre) and a quick trip to Target for supplies for his fancy home-cooked birthday date night dinner tomorrow night. We even listened to a Dan Savage podcast on the drive home, also romantic and plenty racy for V-Day. Then as we pulled into the driveway, I casually mentioned that I needed to write a quick blog post when we got home, and it might be about him. Joe looked over at me and started shaking his head and laughing, "Now don't go all out. I'm good. I feel loved. You don't have to write about how awesome I am again. You've done that so much it's almost gratuitous. Almost."
So, dear, I love you. Happy birthday. Here's to the next 38. You work on being less awesome, and I'll try not to gush so much.