Reservations Required

Okay, y'all, my birthday is in May and I would just like to throw a pressie idea out there! I so want a t-shirt (long sleeve, preferably black) that says, "I am SO blogging this." Yep, yep. Do you know how many times this thought crosses my mind? Of course you do, cuz you blog, and everything is a potential blog post, right? Everything.

So last night the hubbs and I actually got a night out alone together. Sans kiddos. Very rare. We figured out that in the almost two years we've been in Oregon now, we've gone on two (count 'em, TWO) dates, including this one. It's a sad, sad, saaad case.

Well, I guess it's not an actual date when it's your hubbs Holiday work party. And I guess, technically we weren't all alone. BUT, I did get to dig deep in the closet for the high heels and wear a pretty black dress. Also very rare. I'm calling it a date.

The party was at the Embassy Suites, near the airport. A nice place--a stream bubbling in the hotel lobby. The menu said there would be appetizers and dessert...and drinks. The theme was Casino Night. A very cool thing tagged onto this was that the hubbs won a room in the hotel, through a raffle. SO, we also got to pack a bag for an overnighter. Very excited. Even though we are literally staying in a hotel twenty minutes from home, it's fancy, walking distance and again, sans kiddos.

After making arrangements for the kiddos to have a sleepover at auntie's and the dog getting a sleepover at grandma's, we decided going out to dinner would be nice too. Romantic possibilities. In my head, at least.

So we are trying to figure out where to go. This takes some thought. After I turn down three brew pubs (let's take it up a notch, hubbs, I'm wearing a pretty black dress and heels--are you paying attention, or what?), hubbs suggests Stanford's. A good option. I'm encouraged. Then he says, "Wanna eat at the one in the airport?"

Silence.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

Did he just ask me if I want to eat in the airport?



Yes, yes my hubby just asked me if I wanted to eat at a restaurant in the airport. No doubt, due to the proximity to the hotel, but still. What just happened here?

I remind him of what romance looks like. That he used to be very good at it. That he used to scare me with how romantic he was. That on our second date he pulled up in front of my house in a limo and gave me a real diamond necklace. We hadn't even kissed yet, though the moment soon followed.

I reminisced how I came home one day to an answering machine message (back in the day when we had answering machines) of him singing an entire Pet Shop Boys song to me. Call me. My roommate and I were speechless. I was borderline freaked out, with how romantic the boy was. Who does this? It was incredibly foreign to me.

There were little things too...after work, I'd climb in my car and find little notes, elaborately folded, waiting for me under my windshield wipers. He'd plan little day get-a-ways to the beach. There would be chocolate and small, pretty packages with bows on them. Fragrant roses. Waterfront dinners. He was good. Real good.

And I'm really not that kind of girl. Really. You don't have to wine and dine me. Win me over with diamonds (I do love sterling silver though). I'm not fancy. I'm kind of a t-shirt & pj pant-wearing, stretch out on the couch, watching a movie, kind of a girl. But you know, all that pomp and circumstance is nice...once in a while.

Like last night--that would be a very good example of once in a while.

Noticing the air suck out of the room at his "eating at the airport" suggestion, he quickly recovered and made reservations at the Stanford's (not in the airport).

We managed to talk about a lot of things, at dinner. He's good at making me laugh, pulling me in to our own little private bubble, ignoring the movement and noise surrounding us. We had the salmon. We took pictures. We're not above that. We had to document that we had actually done this. Been there, done that.

The holiday party was okay. Just what you imagine for a work party. Two rooms full of people you don't know. Okay, he knew five people. He introduced me. We danced. We laughed some more. He is a character after all. I had a drink with a cherry in it. Okay, I had two drinks with a cherry in it. We checked out the hotel room.

Then we got a phone call. Right at 10:00. One of the girls was throwing up. So back to the real world we go. Goodbye hotel with the bubbling stream in the lobby. Goodbye little drinks with cherries in them. Goodbye very good little jazz band. Goodbye free hotel room.

We get everyone home, I kick the heels back in the depth of the closet and get the big towels out to spread across the girl's bed and floor. Hubbs brings the throw up bowl up and thus ends our night of romance and begins our night of Tylenol and nightlight lit, bedside vigil.

There's always next year.