Mr. Husband Takes the Cake.

Look down below. Do you see it? Do you? Mr. Husband and his surprise attack on my blog is a sweet reminder for why I love this tall-drink-of-water-super-man. He sneaks up on me in the middle of the bloggy night and he takes care of me. Always. He is forever behind me as a supporter and a helper. I try to do the same for him, but my support typically comes in the form of English muffins and chicken sandwiches. He feeds my heart and I feed his stomach.

Our first anniversary is coming up. And I am the happiest I have ever been in my life. I'm not dreaming, either. (My dreams tend to be totally awesome.) And, you see, even when I am not looking, he is there thinking about me, and planning for me, and taking care of me. I just want to crawl up inside him and live in his heart forever.

This is a sickeningly sweet blog. Feel free to vomit. If you want, I’ll send you an airplane bag so you can also bag your vomit.

Sweet like cake. Mmmm. Cake. Mr. Husband takes the cake. I should bake him more cakes. I will.