Tomorrow (actually, today, but was last night when I wrote this and, apparently, was late from the ball) will mark the 17th year of our marriage, though we’ve been together (not in the co-habit way) for twenty. Of those years, I guess we’ve only spent a handful engaged in any marked, celebatory way which included getting dressed up (or down) and being served a lovely meal out. Various reasons prevented us from doing so, mainly because we either (a.) couldn’t find a sitter, or (b.) it was cost prohibitive–usually both.
Well, the kids can sit themselves now, and we’ve come by way of a few more bucks. At least, enough to have a meal out at a restaurant that doesn’t have an attached car port.
So, hubby and I decided to make reservations to the restaurant with the strangely malnourished-looking beef cow logo. They’re known for fine dining and attentive service–all well and good. But, it’s their aged beef that makes them especially popular among the fine dining crowd.
I perused their online menu today, just to get an idea of their offerings and to help make it easier for me to make a speedier decision once it was my turn to order. I’m one of those orderers who lament over the menu, finally making a half-hearted choice, only to find that I want everyone else’s plate, but mine. I figured, if I approached this pre-menu task much like a standardized test–that is, by way of eliminating those items I’m certain are incorrect, than the likelihood of choosing correctly would be to my favor.
Well, that plan failed miserably, when I saw the prices. Does a $45 steak really taste significantly better than a $20 one? What’s so special about a lettuce wedge doused with blue cheese dressing and bacon sprinkles that would justify a $7 pricetag? Pssst. It’s iceberg lettuce.
So, now I have to decide how best to order tomorrow’s anniversary dinner. How best to approach this will take a certain amount of decorum and the finesse of a Wall Street banker. And, I hate myself for it. Afterall, it’s our anniversary and I want to eat well and enjoy the experience.
I’m banking on the thought that the kids will understand when we don’t bring home the traditional after-dinner cheesecakes. I figure, what we save in cheesecake dollars, will enable us to afford a new heater for the van. Seems like an even trade.
Surely, even Kaukab would find this a plausible solution–eventually.