Gulp.

It finally happened, after decades of speculation from friends, family and --I must admit--myself, a man has finally broken my record of dullard existence. Nod. A brave man.

Details:
Shellie's Mood: Romantic
Shane's Mood: Meticulous
Occasion: 33rd Birthday
House: 1227 Clayton Street
Presents: French Laundry book, Rocco book, dangling earrings, but no ring.

I munched on Pierre Robert, Manchego, St. Andre and crunched on lovely marcona almonds along with a glass of ’96 Leclerc Briant Cuvee. Shane galliantly prepared the Risotto, Swiss chard, and Pork from Rocco’s cookbook with maximum frustration. He wrote me a birthday card with the sweetest of sweet notes that got me all sobbed up. Just as I choked on the smoke of the birthday candles, he popped the question and the ring. Rewind. I made him propose again and this time get on one knee. I, pathetically, wept. He wept a little. I live in swift times where love is a shortcut through a drive thru, yet I am just an old fashioned girl at heart, and I am certainly lucky in love to have taken my time.

Note to self: Do not forget the happy moments that are simply vibrant in details.