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So today--all right, yesterday actually--was our second wedding anniversary. Two (er, three) days ago we celebrated the seventh anniversary of our first date. I know. Time flies when you're having fun and all that.

We had all kinds of detailed plans for today, namely heading to Conroe to eat at one of my favorite restaurants, picking up the old skool rocking chair for the nursery, and hitting up a Carter's baby outlet. Since I had a rough night--oh, insomnia and hip pain, how I loathe thee--we ended up scrapping our plans for something a little more low key.

We laughed in the face of frugality, kicked down the a/c to the low seventies and got all snoodled up in our blacked out bedroom for a late morning of snuggles and dozing. Instead of an expensive lunch, we grabbed big, fat yummy burritos from Freebirds and hit up Target for Father's Day gifts and cards. A slice of my homemade orange pound cake with a smidge of strawberry infused whipped cream and naughty time topped off the night.

Best. Anniversary. Ever.

Oh, and Dave-O brought me the usual gorgeous flowers and card. Don't let him fool you. The man is the sappiest of romantics and I love him for it. I won't share the inscription in my card but I'm seriously tearing up over it right now. And, no, it's not pregnancy hormones. Seriously, I always wonder what our kids are going to think when they finally go through the boxes of letters and cards we've exchanged over the seven years we've been together. It's like a Nicholas Sparks novel, lol.