You come home from a stressful two hour commute and have a driveway dinner going. (We figured it's only slightly redneck to eat in your driveway!)
I really don't deserve Tony. As cheesy as that sounds, it's so true. He always has dinner waiting for me when I get home (spoiled, I told you) and on days when I am particularly depressed sitting in miles and miles of traffic (and
whining to him describing it to him over the phone), he always thinks of something spontaneous and sweet to do for me. I can honestly say he gets more excited about me being happy, than about himself being happy.
And he makes a mean dish of grilled corn.