Anniversary Antics

Daltonboy and I have now enjoyed six years of matrimonial harmony. To commemorate the occasion, daltonboy brought me flowers--a lovely live orchid. (This will work out well. If, while we are gone next week, the plant dies, daltonboy's parents will feel guilty and obligated to buy me a new one. If he had bought me cut flowers, they'd be dead and no one would have replaced them, because that's expected. So now I get to come home to fresh flowers, which I will then proceed to kill myself, but not until I have enjoyed them for a week or two. That DB is a diabolical genius!) He also bought me a lovely faux crocodile bag for my laptop computer, so I can take it everywhere I go. I chose not to take it to dinner last night, even though that decision brought me great pain. I would love to have blogged from the restaurant. It just didn't seem appropriate.

Speaking of dinner, we decided to go up to Salt Lake to a Tibetan restaurant I know of--or at least knew of when I was in college fifteen years ago. Because I am clever, I checked to make sure they were still a going concern before we drove all the way up there. They were. When we arrived at 7:00 p.m., there was no one in the place except a young girl behind the counter. We walked in, she looked at us, spat on the floor, and disappeared into the back. That did not bode well. We chose to overlook it. Fortunately, she eventually came back to take our order. Also fortunately, she did not prepare or serve the food, which was delicious. The Dalai Lama looked down on us while we ate. I think he's a pretty cool, cool guy.

We didn't have such good luck with the rest of our night. When we got to the Salt Lake Library, it was already closed. The library in our fair community is open until 9:00 p.m. of a Friday night. I guess the big city people have a thing or two to learn about how to run a library.

Then we got to the movie theater, where we were informed that our movie didn't start until 10:00 p.m. Daltonboy's PDA was giving out false information. Since we were tired, we decided to forget the movie in favor of dessert. Once we found a place that was open, dessert was good, but the side of strawberries I ordered with my creme brulee turned out to be a side of mushy once-frozen strawberries in heavy syrup. That was slightly disappointing, but I wasn't about to let it ruin my evening, especially since the creme brulee had about a fifth of something I'm not supposed to be drinking in it. I staggered from the restaurant, feeling no pain.

Then I came home, went to bed, got up, and cut most of my hair off--in an incident completely unrelated to the festivities of the preceding evening. I wasn't using it all that much, and these kids needed it.

My head feels funny. Again, I am almost certain this is unrelated to the festivities of the preceding evening.