(Just kidding. You're not getting off THAT easily.)
So anyway, our anniversary is September 2nd because:
- It's an alliteration, which was important to me.
- It's before deer season, which was important to Eric.
- It's Labor Day weekend, and we thought that would cut down on attendance.
The weather yesterday was just like the weather the day we got married--full sun, warm and gorgeous. Pretty much everything else was different, though. For one thing, I was not wearing a big fancy dress, and Eric was not in a tux. Oh, and the girls were running around like crazy heads. And while there were crazy children at our wedding (I still haven't forgiven that one kid for chucking a handful of birdseed at my face, the little bastard), they weren't OURS. So see? Different.
In our town, we have this thing called First Friday, which, oddly enough, happens on the first Friday of the month. Our favorite restaurant is downtown, smack in the middle of the First Friday chaos, but no worries, right? That's why God gave us reservations. Only they don't take reservations on First Friday. What the heck, favorite restaurant? Why are you trying to sabotage our anniversary dinner? Rude.
I was late getting home because work was crazy, and I would talk about all that happened, but honestly, it's TOO interesting, and it would detract from my little story here. Not that I mind tangents. But still.
Okay, fine. It wasn't that interesting. Happy now?
Eric and I dropped the girls off at my parents (hi Mom!) a little after 6pm and then headed downtown. We were feeling a bit giddy, going into the thick of things and being potentially social, sans children and whatnot. Or maybe we were just hungry.
We parked slightly illegally at a church and headed towards the restaurant. There were people outside, and people walking past, and people all over the place. We crossed our fingers and went inside.
And except for the bar area, the place was empty. We could have had our pick of tables. But what fun would that have been?
So we asked to be seated outside, and, happy day, our waitress came through with a nice little place sort of on the outskirts, which suited us just fine. The patio was packed, but because of where we were seated, it was just us and the twinkle lights and our bread basket.
After we'd chatted a bit, I pulled out Eric's card from my very awesome tote. Eric and I don't exchange gifts on these sorts of occasions... or really any occasion, now that I think about it, because we're adults and our love is not measured by monetary offerings. (Take that, The Man!) But we do exchange cards. (What? I like words.) And I was feeling a little pleased with myself because I couldn't see any card on Eric's person, which would mean that I win because I brought mine to dinner.
Eric gets this smug look on his face--I had expected chagrin--and says, oh, are we exchanging our cards now? And pulls his out of the pocket of his cargo shorts. And I was all, damn! Here I thought I was all awesome. And now it's a tie.
So anyway. Eric's card was funny and thoughtful and lovely, and it made me tear up a little bit. I'd share it, but it's MINE.
Eric ordered a chicken sandwich on this lovely looking roll, with cheese and bacon and some sort of mustard sauce. I had my usual fish and chips. And they were delicious. I saved a piece of fish and most of the fries, though, because creme brule was in my future.
I feel that this is a testament to how much I love Eric: I shared the creme brule. We are creme brule snobs, so we were all like, this topping does not shatter when we spoon into it, but the custard part is rich and creamy and delicious. And even if the topping does not shatter, the flavor is reminiscent of caramel. (We thought this was particularly hilarious and clever. We need to get out more.) Then we started listing our best creme brule experiences, which meant we had to talk about the worst, too. Our conclusion: Creme brule is awesome.
Having been well fed, we decided we were up to go against the swarm downtown. We went to the bookstore first--Abby has a book on order, and we were checking its status. (Tuesday.) Then we went into another little store... and quickly walked out... and then went into this "vintage" clothing store (nice spin on the second-hand aspect, no?)... and listened to a couple of guys playing guitars while we looked through the racks... and then left empty handed. (I found a few things, just not in my size.)
And then we were all like, well, that was fun. Let's go get the girls! So we did.
P.S. My leftover fish and chips became the girls' bedtime snack. They didn't even bother to warm it up. They just got out a couple of plates, divvied up the food, and kept telling me how great my fish and chips tasted. I had to laugh. My girls ARE pretty fantastic when they're not ripping each other's throats out.
...And that's the end.
Guster, "Satellite." Because Eric is always the first star that I find. (I know! Cheesy! I can't help it.)