106. Watching you do pull-ups

107. The sweat that soaks through the back of your t-shirt when we work out - so freaking sexy

108. When you kiss me on the cheek or pat me as we pass each other in the kitchen

109. When you tell me about a joke or comment you made at work that fell flat and how you thought to yourself, "Kelly would have gotten it."

110. That when I was sobbing in the kitchen on a particularly desperate day, and you held me and said it was going to be okay, you somehow made those words seem believable to me

111. The adorable butt-wiggling dance you do

112. Dreaming with you, on cold winter weekends, of all the places we could escape to

113. That you can never remember if you like homestyle or curly fries at Arby's

114. That you pour my to-go coffee every morning because I am always running late

115. That when I came into the kitchen the other morning you proudly exclaimed, "Choose your lunch!" and had lined up the various side options on the counter, grouped by type: chips or caramel corn, apple or orange, Skittles or a Reese's Cup.

116. Your eyes

117. That while I was completely, utterly overwhelmed by the huge mountain of snow at the end of the driveway, you just calmly began chipping away at it ... and how that's a metaphor for pretty much everything

118. That you blare Metallica during the evenings I'm at the rescue squad

119. That you download podcasts of our favorite radio shows

120. That you are a master at finding and planning hikes when we travel

Our marriage is the thing I'm most proud of, and that has every bit as much to do with you as it does me. Happy eight years, dear.

For Christmas I knitted Rob a sock. I had every intention of knitting him a pair of socks, but sadly one is all that I got done. It wasn't even a real sock, with a heel and everything. It was just a tube sock, for wearing around the house with his slippers. Super easy. The problem was that I could only knit when Rob wasn't around. So I'd knit during my lunch break, and I'd hurry home after work to knit before he arrived. But these tiny snippets of time weren't enough to complete two socks. So I wrapped up the one and gave it to him with a promise to finish the other one right away. "It'll be a New Year's present!" I remember saying.

And it would have been, except I spent the week after Christmas peeling wallpaper off our living room walls. That always takes longer than expected. It also inflamed the nerve in my carpal tunnel, so I had to put myself on "wrist rest," which meant no knitting for several weeks. "I'm really sorry," I told Rob, "but it's going to have to be a Valentine's Day present."

And it would have been, except our friends' baby was due on Valentine's Day. And the knitting for him had to take priority. "It's a gift," I explained to Rob. "A gift can't be late." Poor Rob didn't even bother pointing out that his sock was supposed to have been a gift, too.

After I finished the knitting for the baby, I devoted myself to finishing Rob's other sock. I was making serious progress, too…until I ran out of yarn. Not a problem! I would just run to the yarn store and get more. But they no longer had any. "It's okay," Rob said, with resignation in his voice. "One sock can just be shorter than the other."

I disagreed. The man had waited this long for the sock and he was going to get a proper sock. So I found the yarn online and ordered some. It arrived last Saturday, and I immediately got to knitting.

That evening, I handed Rob a wrapped package. "Happy St. Patrick's Day!"

Feigning surprise, because he's a good sport.

And considering St. Patrick's Day was still several days off, I think we can say that the sock was, in a way, early.

previous editions

Happy birthday, love. It is an honor and a pleasure to explore this world with you in ways both big and small. You are my greatest friend and my most cherished family.

previous editions

91. When I call your cell and you answer with "Hey darlin'."

92. The unwitting things you do that crack up my brother. Yes, we are totally laughing at you.

93. That you loved the snorkeling as much as I did.

94. Your sense of humor. Is it possible I haven't mentioned this in previous lists? It's what drew me to you in the first place.

95. How cute your big toes are. I know it sounds strange but I love them.

96. That you understand how stuff (the car, the computer, the universe) works.

97. Your laugh.

98. That when your work buddies are going out to lunch, you'll call and invite me along.

99. How you care so gently for things you've planted and get so excited to see them grow.

100. That you planted mint so I can make my mojitos.

101. The preferential way you treat Maylee. She totally has you wrapped around her little paw.

102. That you making red velvet cupcakes = bloody murder scene all over the kitchen floor.

103. When you say, "What are you doing tonight? I wanna take you out to dinner."

104. That your best example of insubordinate behavior is when you skipped a question on a form at the doctor's office, just because. And, even more, that you related this story so proudly. You rebel.

105. Your playfulness. I love being silly with you.

Seven years. We've now been married for as long as we dated. Back then we were just kids and I used to long for the days when we'd have a grown-up life together, when we'd wake up together and drive places together from our own house and share the ordinary, everyday stuff as a married couple. And now we have that, and I don't take it for granted. Well, of course I do sometimes. But there are plenty of times, like when we're driving to the grocery store or we're at a family picnic, that I smile to myself and think, "This is what I always wanted." And it is still what I want, more than anything.

You are both my greatest friend and my most cherished family. Happy anniversary, Rob.

I haven't posted a "Hiking with Kelly" photo in a year - I'm way behind. In this case she appears to be legitimately enjoying the hike. This was taken on a recent outing to this fire tower.