Yesterday Hubby and I celebrated 42 years of marriage. Add to that the four years we dated before getting married and, well, that's a whole lotta years and a whole lotta memories made. If you want to read the story of how we met, you can go here.
We already had plans for a little getaway to Fredericksburg -- a joint anniversary celebration with our BFFs, who are about to celebrate their 41st. So, it was a bit of a surprise when John announced that he was taking me to dinner at a little French place we've been talking about trying for ages, but never actually made it to -- Justine's, over in east Austin. I was positively giddy about finally eating there, not so giddy about the trip over and back. In fact, when we'd been stuck in gridlock for at least 30 or 45 minutes, I turned to John and said "I guess I'm officially old now, 'cause I've just decided that, between this and our deer-dodging drive home in the dark, going to have dinner in Austin just isn't worth it anymore!"
Perhaps I spoke too soon.
The sound system consists of a wall of vinyl and a turntable, and the whims of the bartender on duty.
We may have got a bit carried away with our starters, ordering escargot (Oh My! Is there anything better than good French bread dipped in those garlicky butter dregs?), a cheese board, and at the last second, John threw in a crab salad. Which is probably to blame for the fact the we both brought home most of our main course (a pork chop with reduction sauce and potato gratin for me, and steak frites for John). Had to save room for dessert, don'tcha know!
My only complaint was that I couldn't hear a word John said all evening, despite the added baffling on the ceiling.
So, can anyone who's been there explain this...
a tiny little shed in the back garden, complete with bar stools and taxidermy?
If only they were open for lunch!
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