call me a romantic.

oh ya.  remember that special delivery that I was a little overly-excited about, just before Christmas?  well, it was a hit.  he LOVED it.  it was a book.  two books actually.  authored by us. 

Every adventure since the vows were exchanged to the day the tree was decorated.  documented in full.  bound to perfection.  it is a photo album detailing the first of our many adventures.  each page has a story behind it.  a memory deeply rooted to the smiles in each picture.  it turned out beautifully. 

{Photo Album Cover}

not only that, but I had our “love letters” printed and bound into our very own story book.  we have our “notebook” {the romantic in me is swooning right now.}.  see, the beginning of our friendship-slash-relationship began and developed over … dare I say it … text messaging.  I know, I know!  ridiculous.  why not talk on the phone?  or communicate face-to-face?  be a little more personal, why don’t you?  well … I’ll just say it … I was scared.  and that sweet man on the other side of the text-message chain saw that.  thus, he pursued through text.  smart man, actually.  and I will include, that those text messages occurred before, after, and in-between the times we did spent face to face {which grew to be much more frequent as time went on … obviously}.  anyways, now we have official documentation of those little comments and conversations that resulted in copious amounts of butterflies and increased pigmentation in my cheeks {i.e. blushing}. 

after we became “official” {only the best dtr ever, might I add}, we decided to type out our texts so that we wouldn’t forget them.  and that we did.  as far back as the phone log would recall … to the day after that dtr.  and now, it’s printed.  and bound.  in our very own book of memories. 

{our love letter cover}

I know he loved it.  his hands shook ever so slightly as he carefully turned each page.  it’s been almost two years, and this is just the beginning of our story.