I got a lot of good-natured flack yesterday from J's dear friends and workmates over at the Twin Towers in Century City for not mentioning the ring he gave me for our twentieth wedding anniversary. It's an odd thing, isn't it, the things you're willing to share on a blog like this, and the things that you aren't. My husband gave me a breathtakingly beautiful ring. It completely surprised me. I don't, frankly, feel worthy. So I wrote about the Gordon Ramsay restaurant and completely failed to mention my lovely ring. Yesterday we went to have the ring set and all I can say is that I feel like the Duchess of Windsor. Every day I wake up and thank my lucky stars that such a good and kind and brilliant man loves me for all my flaws (and there's a boatload of them, believe me). It's a bit humbling.
Somehow, I'm drawn to the Jules & Ringo dialog at the end of "Pulp Fiction" (oh how pop culture of you, dahling):
Jules: Now I'm thinkin': it could mean you're the evil man. And I'm the righteous man. And Mr. .45 here, he's the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or it could be you're the righteous man and I'm the shepherd and it's the world that's evil and selfish. I'd like that. But that shit ain't the truth. The truth is you're the weak. And I'm the tyranny of evil men. But I'm tryin, Ringo. I'm tryin' real hard to be the shepherd.
That's it, though, isn't it?
No comments:
Post a Comment