'under my umbrella...ella...ella...eh...eh...eh'

For rolling your eyes at me and laughing when I asked you to call me your shawty. And for rolling your eyes again after I had to tell you what a shawty was. And especially for just skipping the slang and calling me your fine ass woman.

For the way you stick out the tip of your tongue and take a rockstar stance when you think no one is watching you play Guitar Hero III. I see you, superstar, and I'm totally plotting ways to get backstage after the show.

For the way you can fire off a little catnap at church without concern of who sees you. Whether we're in the front row or clear in the back, when you're tired, you're tired, and I respect that.

For thinking you can sit right down next to me on the couch and watch the Season 4 premiere of Lost - the first full episode you've ever watched, btw - and actually think you have everything figured out! Just by watching it and asking me three questions (Which, let me thank you again for waiting for commercial breaks to ask them. And yes, the numbers they're always rattling off DO have significance!). Paybacks come in the form of a little infatuation of yours you like to call Battlestar Galactica, my friend.

For letting me use you as a foot stool even though you seem to have an aversion to rubbing my feet, which is the sole purpose (get it!? sole purpose? feet? hi-freakin'-larious!!)

For shaking what God gave you at me all the time, and for grinning like a lovesick teenager everytime you see me without a shirt on.

For our long distance conversations where you totally miss the point when I ask you what you're wearing (rawr!) and you respond with some completely out there in the universe remark about the weather.

For keeping the truck running in the driveway in the middle of January just so I can act out Mr. Roboto when it comes on the radio.

For always asking "Want me to suck you?" when you get the vacuum out, and for thinking I'm equally as hilarious when I respond, "Depends. Show me your hose."

For going all out for me and hitting the Kum & Go when I'm acting all 'crack addict in need of a fix' for a delicious 44 ounce Diet Mountian Dew from the fountain. With crushed ice, please. Thank you.

For the matinees - both the real ones and the ones filled with double entendre and lots of rolling around. My, but we've seen some good ones lately.

For sending me a three word email consisting of the phrase "ACCIDENT. I'm OK." and then letting me stress for another hour and a half until I heard from you.

For everything I loved about you last year (except for maybe that part about not spilling about what happened on Heroes because, well, obviously I worked days during this season's run so we could watch episodes together, but honestly, it got to the point where I simply didn't care as much because wow, this season sucked!), I love you for it more this year. Wait. The underwear folding thing. I gave it some thought over the year. I don't really love the annoying way you fold your underwear, but I always take deep breaths as I watch you, and sometimes I bite the side of my mouth to keep myself from saying anything.

For these things and many, many more I dig ya, my husband. You're good people. You make me good people, too, just by loving me back.

Even if you won't call me your shawty...but you will. Oh, you most definitely will...