One year ago, I spent part of the day reading this guy’s blog.  I spent part of the day reading his professional site.  I spent part of the day pouring over every post he made on the site where we met.  And I found his picture.  Oh. My. I must know this man.  So I sent him a private message on the message board where we were both members.  And he answered.  I kept messaging him because well, I had to know him better.  Mostly, I had to know if he was married or had a girlfriend or anyone of the female persuasion I must hunt down and kill.  Over the course of the next few days, the conversation became more flirtatious and I gave him my phone number.  He called.  We talked.   Eight hours later and I was sunk, worse than I was before I heard his voice, his laugh.

And now, one year later, he’s my husband.  My smart, funny, wickedly gorgeous husband.  My best friend.  My partner.   The father of my unborn children. My everything.

We spent today in San Francisco.  We decided to take BART into the city to save on gas and a bit of time.  We rode the cable cars down to Fisherman’s Wharf, shopped in Union Square, walked and walked and walked and walked.   The weather was gorgeous and in fact, we are both a bit sunburned.

I look back over the last year and I wouldn’t change a thing.  If this first year is any indication of how things will be between us, I can’t wait for the next one, and the one after that and all the ones after that.

I love you, Babe.  More today than yesterday and more tomorrow than I do right now.  Thank you for making this the best year I’ve ever had.