A year ago when I celebrated my birthday with a big bash at an art gallery, I vowed that the following year would be different. “This time next year, I’m going to have a boyfriend and he’s going to make me a romantic, home-cooked meal and we’re going to be totally mellow.”
Here I am, one year later. Instead of a boyfriend, I have a fiance. And instead of a home-cooked meal, we are celebrating at one of my favorite restaurants.
We woke up this morning to our usual routine: shower, check emails, grapefruit juice for me, coffee for Dean, get ready. Then I blurted, “Baby, you’re supposed to wish me a happy birthday! You forgot!”
He stumbled out of his leather chair, “No, No, it’s just that it’s so early in the morning. I didn’t forget.” I laughed and he came over with lots of kisses before taking me to work.
Tonight we dine at Pesce in Russian Hill. Dean’s friend is the bartender there and will be pairing everything we eat with wine. First up? Oysters and champagne! I can’t wait.
Thanks everyone for the birthday wishes. I’m so very very happy.