9 years ago, today, Billy convinced me to forego a friend's St. Patrick's Day party and instead drive with him up to Malibu.

We were both living in Huntington Beach and had only been dating for about 4 months. Somehow, in that short time, we had crashed head-first into an all-consuming romance where we were convinced we should spend the rest of our lives together. Now, of course, we both freely admit that neither one of us ever really considered 'the rest of our lives' to be anything PAST the honeymoon but such is the folly and magic of Mormon love.

We went to dinner at Moonshadows and talked about running away together to travel the world. We had never discussed an actual engagement, had never gone 'ring shopping,' and had only discussed children in terms of me never wanting to have them, so the possibility of Billy having bought a ring and masterminding a proposal was the farthest thing from my mind.

After dinner, we took a walk along the beach in Sycamore Cove. In between making out and pawing at each other, I kept gushing at how PERFECT everything was. The moonlight! The Sand! The Ocean! Our Love! and at some point, in the middle of my manic raving, Billy got down on one knee, pulled out a diamond ring in a black leather box, and said "The only way you could make this night more perfect is if you say you will marry me."

I was so shocked and surprised that all I COULD say was, 'Shut Up!' and then I fell on my knees in the sand beside him. It was a magically delicious moment......and with it being St. Paddy's day and all, I guess I have the leprechauns to thank for that.