Year One Anniversary, parts I and II

August 7, 2010 § Leave a comment

Part I: The Backstory

On June 22, 2009, Wayne looked across a crowded room at a girl in a red sweater, who despite being really horrendous at public speaking, eagerly and bubbly volunteers to be the first to introduce herself to the forum with her name, alma mater, and random fact, and he knew he had to meet her.

Or at least, that’s the story he tells me.

On July 18, 2009, I looked across a tiny table full of seafood tapas at a guy in a white polo, who so earnestly cared for me and always smiled as widely when he sees me as I do him, and I knew he was it.

That’s the story with the ending I haven’t told anyone.

Part II: The Thought

Last month, Wayne and I celebrated our anniversary. He was very sweet. He remembered that the traditional anniversary gift is paper* and surprised me with a paper flower (The little figurine is a tiny dog attached to the cup, which Wayne gave me because I like dogs.):

He also indulged my on-going, obsessive love for macarons. The box was hand-delivered on a sleepy Saturday when the rest of the world decided to be indulgent and sleep in. Luckily for the macaron delivery man, I have this inability to sleep in on a weekend — but my body wholeheartedly will indulge in sleeping until noon on a weekday; this makes getting up for work extremely hard on overcast mornings in winter. Unfortunately for the macaron delivery man, I had spent the early morning reading Wikipedia entries on American and Japanese horror films and was slightly afraid of answering the door (also now slightly afraid of hostels). It wasn’t until his third attempt at knocking on our door that I realized that I was being foolish and ghosts can’t knock anyway.

I was so excited that I never bothered to take a picture of the box filled with macarons. The above is a stock photo from Michel’s Patisserie. I was half way through my second macaron, a delicate, deliciously light but still, oddly, rich red velvet macaron that had the coveted little “foot” (the uneven, rough part that circles and juts out the bottom of one-half of a macaron), when I realized that I probably should have paused to take a picture of Wayne’s gift before devouring it. Here’s the picture I got around to taking with the bits and parts that were left over:

Note that there isn’t even a crumb left. They were all too delicious to neglect.

*I don’t really care that the traditional gifts list is for married couples. How important and sacred can marriage be if not everyone can marry, but those who can marry can ruin the sanctity of marriage by sleeping with 121 women?

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