I chose the restaurant (Si Tapas) and Trevor chose desert (La Duni). It was a perfect evening. Good food. Good wine. Chocolate. The hubster. What more could a girl ask for?
Not this:
Trevor: "Oh, good! There is a lightening delay. If we hurry, I might not miss any of the Broncos/Ravens game!"
This is the second year in a row that the NFL has opened their season on my wedding anniversary. I'm not even sure how that is possible. It is like Roger Goodell is screwing with me. Maybe once every five or six years, but this has now happened twice in my four years of marriage. Which, granted, isn't all that long. But it is long enough for it to be the second anniversary since becoming parents (20 months and one day ago) that we have paid our favorite babysitter, who happens to have a four hour minimum, for an hour we didn't even use. BECAUSE WE WERE HOME BY 9:30 TO WATCH THE GAME.
Uh-oh, Trevor. Uh. Oh. You owe me numerous Judi Dench and Maggie Smith movies now. And nothing 007 counts.
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