You know that I love you boy, hot like Mexico...

Happy Anniversary, babe. It's been 17 years.

17 years of fighting about the laundry. I think we've been in a groove lately though, don't you?

17 years of me cranking the heat up to 75 in the winter and you coming along behind me and turning it down to 69. It's been a delicate dance that I daresay, we have perfected.

17 years of me making the meals while you forgot how to make anything but mac and cheese and frozen pizza. 17 years of you doing all the dishes while I forgot how to even put my glass in the dishwasher.

17 years of science experiments growing in the tupperware, plants not growing in our home, and love growing in our hearts. Yes, I am more in love with you now than ever. And I'm not just saying that because this is the obligatory Anniversary post. I've been thinking about it and the thing is, I like you. I like my life better because you are in it. And I like myself better because you are in my life. Wait for it...

You.complete.me.

Seriously, it's been 17 years and 1,000 strands of togetherness that can't be easily broken. Our family has changed a lot through the years...

(Btw, we are positioned very awkwardly above. Look at my stiff hand.)

But the gratefulness I feel in getting to be your wife has not changed one bit. (Neither by the way, has your hair line.)

It's been 17 years of fox trotting in the kitchen to "I'll be with you in Apple-blossom time". And I hope to still be dancing in our kitchen when we are using walkers.

And so I say again: Happy Anniversary, babe. It's been 17 years that have fallen short of "ideal", yet far exceeded what I could have dreamed. I'm in love with you and I can't stop...