A birthday narrative

This is my birthday beau:

Isn't he a fine 24 year old? (Be warned: I plan on marveling over our two year age difference ad nauseam until I turn 23 next month.)

On Saturday night our families met for the first time (eek! Except not really because everyone got along swimmingly, just as I expected they would.) and went out to dinner in Big D. After eating entirely too much Italian food, wishing Sean buon compleanno with the waitstaff and restaurant patrons, and filling three to-go boxes with leftovers, we rambled back to Sean's apartment for cake and prezzies, both of which he received in spades. (Sean rambled a bit more slowly than I did, of course, since he's two years older than I am.)

Sean's momma brought him a delish Dallas Cowboys cookie cake from exotic East Texas and I made him this cake because he asked me to gifting opulent cakes always makes me feel a little like the birthday girl:

I was thisclose to making him a Scion TC cake, but I opted not to as soon as I looked at pictures of his car for inspiration because HOLY MOLY are cars ever intricate! I thought about making an exotic car themed cake instead (because he works with them every day, get it?) but eventually decided on a suit and tie. Good thing too, because he totally guessed what my present was as soon as he saw it wrapped and be-bowed (also helped that he shook it), and he had an inkling that he was going to get a car cake. Surprise, sucker! You may be two years my senior, but with my youth comes superior cunning and wile!

I returned to his apartment yesterday afternoon so that I could eat his leftovers I could spend some quality time with the birthday boy, and after facing down two crises together--one involving Saran wrap and the other the dishwasher (ask Sean to let me tell you that story some time because it is heee-larious)--I got to partake of some pitiful Cowboys football and some outstanding When Harry Met Sally...with a smokin' hot older man.