Fave!

This week's failure needs a little, or a lottle of a background story. Once upon a time, Brad and I fell in love, but we hadn't told each other yet. I was very adamant that I would not be the first one to say it; I wanted Brad to say it first. But Brad just couldn't get up the courage. Day after day, I took Brad home, came in and whined to my roommate, "Why won't he tell me he loves me?" Every time we talked on the phone I had to stop myself from saying, "Love you, bye." It was only a matter of time before I slipped, and that would not be as cute of a story to tell later.

Brad had several false starts. We'd be studying together, he'd stop me and say, "McKenzie?"
"Yes?"
"I...I..."
"Yes!"
"I care about you."
"Oh...I care about you, too."
Later, we'd be walking around campus, he'd stop, and say, "McKenzie?"
"Yes?"
"I...I..."
"Yes!"
"I...I really like you."
"Yeah, yeah, me too."
My personal favorite was a door step scene when I drove Brad to his apartment one night.
"McKenzie?"
"Yeah?"
"You're my favorite." This attempt at telling me he loved me didn't work very well.
"Your favorite what?" I exclaimed, "Favorite is an adjective. You can't just stop the sentence there! You have to tell me what favorite I am! Am I your favorite chauffeur? Your favorite violinist? Your favorite kisser? What?"
"Well," Brad said shyly, "You're my favorite girl."
"Your favorite girl? What about your mom?"
"Oh, well. I think it's a tie."
"Oh, okay. I'm glad you like your mom." My head was saying, He loves his mom! And I'm tied with his mom! That means he loves me! Woot! Woot! Woot!
A few days later, I fell asleep while we were watching a movie. Brad sat there for a long time after the movie ended, working up the courage to say those three important words. Taking a deep breath, he shook me awake, "Kenzie?"
"What, Brad?" I said sleepily.
"I...I...I love you."
"Love you, too." I said. And fell back asleep. I didn't realize what had happened until the next morning.
As Brad and I got used to saying "I love you," to each other we also started telling each other, "You're my favorite!" as an inside joke. Which concludes the background story.

Tuesday marked a whole month of marriage, so to celebrate, I made Brad a chocolate cake. A two-layer chocolate cake shaped in a heart. Oh...precious. I wanted to use the fancy new cake decorating stuff that we got for our wedding. I may need more practice.

I wanted to write "You're my favorite." So I started with the Y (notice the adjusted first letter) and realized I wasn't adept enough to write small. So I decided to write just, favorite. I ran out of room.

Here are more Monthiversary pictures. We had a fancy pants dinner at Chic-fil-a. More to come about our Chic-fil-a obsession soon.