Chester copper pot.

Seven years. Instead of the traditional "seven year copper gift," I will make a little list for my husband. Here are seven reasons why I love my Bradford -

1. He makes me laugh. Laugh so hard I snort. I don't often admit this to him, but seeing as how today is our anniversary, I'll give him that one. My Brad, he's pretty dang hilarious.

1a. He sings songs about the dogs. With me. By himself. To the dogs. You'd be surprised how much rhymes with "mister porge."

2. This picture (which lends itself to him being hilarious, and also him being able to laugh at himself):

3. He is wicked smart. I know I can always count on him to know something about most everything - I'm incredibly proud of him and that brain of his. Plus, he remembers everything, so rarely do I have to think too hard to remember a date or code or password or address. And I know he will never forget our anniversary or my birthday, or forget that Halloween is far more important than Valentine's Day.

4. He's a guys guy, for sure, but he's also a bit of a lady, too. He does his own laundry, irons his own clothes (and mine, and sometimes my friend's clothes, too), knows how to use the dishwasher, helps me pick out clothes, and always mows the lawn and doesn't give me TOO hard of a time for not knowing how to do so.

5. The Ice Cream Man. Thankskilling. Cannibal Holocaust. Basket Case. Most recently, Re-Animator. Bradford not only tolerates my madness, but he keeps signing up for more.

6. Save for Tommy Boy and Spaceballs references, Brad always gets it. All the random '80s movies references. Hilarious moments from 12 years ago that we haven't talked about since. Doesn't matter - if I'm stiffling a giggle in public, or spouting obsurdities, he knows what I'm thinking.

7. Brad is kind-hearted. He's sarcastic and witty and is certainly a match for my argumentative side, but he's soft and gooey on the inside. He throws away street litter and picks up glass so no one gets cut. He says, "Hi pooch!" to strange dogs on vacation. He plays plastic backyard golf with the littlest of ladies. He always lets me know when the Humane Society is in a bind and needs us to make a donation. When I'm having a really bad day, he brings me Coke in a can.

He just gets it. He knows how to be a partner, but he's still his own person. He brings everything that I often am not to this little life of ours, and in the ways we are alike, we happily share those qualities with each other. He gets it. And I am so lucky to have gotten him.