on a thank-you note...

Dear Jay,

Thank you for being such a sweet and silly husband. Thank you for dealing with me as I sometimes insist on taking photo after photo after photo - and giving me a good smile every now and then. Thank you for making me feel like a hero after running a few miles - even when you have just returned from running twenty. Thank you for sharing in my excitement when I sell something from my shop, and for acting impressed with each item I create, as I run over to you and say, "This is cute, right? What do you think? No, really. Do you like it? Honestly?" You try your hardest to make me feel like I'm a success in your eyes.

Thank you for encouraging me to be the best version of myself.

Thank you for knowing that laughter is truly the way to my heart. Your random jokes, your witty banter and play on words, the way you do that freaky "puppet mouth", the way you change the words in songs to be completely ridiculous ("I'm eating Pop Chips, so what am I so afraid of?"). Thank you for reminding me that we're never too old for a tickle fight. Thank you for (sometimes) stopping when I've had enough tickling and have started to scream. Thank you for knowing me well enough to know that I prefer to get ridiculous amounts of sleep, that the last thing I say in a series of statements is probably a lie just to get your attention, and that if I'm busy texting while we're out and about you know enough to ask, "Are you tweeting?"

Thank you for being honest, reliable and patient.

Thank you for all the times you've had to sit around listening to my dreams from the night before ("So, last night, I had this freaky dream where my teeth fell out, then I started to fly and ended up in this weird old house where there were a bunch of cats, and then all of a sudden the cats turned into tacos, and then I ate the tacos and then one of my ex-boyfriends was there and we held hands, which I kind of feel bad about now, and what do you think?"). Thank you for dealing with my slight hypochondria, my fear of being murdered while home alone during your poker nights, my fear of you dying on your way home from poker nights, my eternal love for Hanson, Edward Cullen and the TV show Intervention, my obsessive-compulsive cleaning habits, and so on and so forth. Thank you for not judging me yesterday when, after you mentioned we had two bottles of wine at home, I said, "Um. Actually, make that one-and-a-half bottles. Sorry."

Quite frankly, thank you for being with me at all, because I am kind of a hot mess.

Thank you for growing with me, and for putting your all into our marriage. Thank you for making me feel beautiful, even when my hair is fuzzy and I have toothpaste on my pimples. Thank you for making up with me after arguments, and for being willing to be the one to say, "I'm sorry." Things will never be perfect all the time, but we certainly have moments of perfection - which matter more than anything.

Thank you for making me proud to be your wife, and for being my best friend. I hope you have a wonderful birthday, and that year twenty-eighth is pretty much the greatest ever. I love you incredibly much - but I guess that's fairly obvious.

love,

"Loufenn"