I love that husband of mine.
I promised him a "treat" when he finished HSK 1 for Chinese on Memrise. His treat of choice was a burger and fries.
I love that he can convince me that I'm beautiful while at the same time loudly describing how much he does not like my outfit.
I love that whenever I give him a piece of food because it doesn't meet my standards (it's too greasy, doesn't taste good, it's lump of fat, etc.) he recognizes that I'm only giving it to him because I don't want to eat it and he says, "That's my Rachy!" with a big smile. He likes the fact that I use him as a human bin for scraps of food that I don't want. It helps that he eats anything. It especially helped when I slyly put an oyster that was given to me at a fancy dinner on his plate for consumption and he ate it without a word. That's teamwork.
I love that he's proud of our marriage and is quick to set people straight when they think we are merely dating (I'm not sure why, but many people don't assume that we are married when they meet us).
I love that he spontaneously tried to buy a surprise hair straightening iron for me but got to the cash register and realized he didn't bring enough cash, so he had to put it back.
I love that he's never embarrassed, including on occasions when he hasn't had enough money on him to buy something that he brought up to the cash register.
I love that he can go from chatting with his parents on Skype in Spanish to studying Chinese and speaking to our coworkers in sentences where every single word is is in the wrong place but they understand him anyway (sometimes).
I love that he plays Fernando Ortega and Rich Mullins songs in the mornings as we get ready for work together.
I love that he loves my family as much as I do.
But mostly, I love that somehow, in the weirdest possible way, we are just right for each other, and it becomes more and more apparent with each passing year.