Today is a special day. It’s officially my hubster’s 30th birthday, and seeing as how he hit this milestone first, I have to rub it in.

I mean, what kind of wife would I be if I didn’t make old man jokes while pointing out our obvious age differences? Especially the generational differences… like how he can sing every word to the humpty dance, and how I was only like six, when that came out. Stuff like that.

Really, I’m only 3 years younger, but when you’re 30, and I’m only 27, we might as well be 3 and 6.Yup, that age gap that I thought was closing is now as wide as the great OHIO, and for that I’m thankful. I’m not ready to be 30 yet. No freaking way. But I am ready to be the wife of a 30 year old, because with age comes wisdom, and if it’s one thing this woman loves it’s the smart, older and wiser husband that I have been blessed with. Basically I set out to marry Forney from “Where the Heart is” and I got lucky with a much cuter, wittier, and way less afro-ey version. Which is much better in my book (look alive, that was just a library pun) anyway.

So here’s to you Hubs, I’ll be your Nobalee Nation all day, minus the whole living in Wal-Mart thing (I would totally pick to live in  Ikea, despite the fact that it would take learning Swedish, an Allyn wrench, and the ability to intestinal-ly handle eating only Swedish meatballs to survive).

Happy Birthday, my 30 year old.


You are Where my heart is.