All Growns Up

May 11, 2005
Just got back from our first PR Council meeting.

I feel electric right now – just because it went so well – there was such good conversation and I actually spoke out, made suggestions and was well heard by (GASP). . . my peers.

AGH! Never thought I would say that.

For the first time, I was there as a colleague and not as some sort of glorified hired help or minute-taker. What a great feeling that is!!! And then to open my mouth and have heads and eyes turn and pay attention and nod.


Okay – I’m over myself now.

Geez Ginger you’re almost 30 years old and you talked in a meeting. BIG DEAL!

Anyway – in other news of the anniversary festivities –

I got home to find a bouquet of multi-colored roses and 2 cards waiting for me on the table. Go Chad! Then we sat on the love seat (AWW!) and looked at our wedding pictures and made jokes and then hugged and kissed and got mushy.

Our dinner was what could only be described as a full-fledged gluttony fest. Only a good vomiting (or a good bonking for that matter) could have completed the evening. (Sadly, I passed out drunk on lipids, belching myself awake at various nightly intervals – isn’t it romantic?)

Anyway – we started with bread and Italian butter- which was basically oil, garlic, pepper, more oil, balsamic vinegar, parmesan, and another sprinkling of oil.

Like fools, we ordered appetizers and shared a soup.

The appetizer was 2 crawfish cakes smothered in some sort of tan cream sauce, filled with more crawfish tails. Pretty good.

The soup, however . . .

(I need a moment of silence.)

If a Soup Nazi does indeed exist, my friends, he’s working in that kitchen.

It was a corn & crab bisque and just about the best thing I’ve ever tasted. So creamy – so sweet and yet – just a hint of something . . . When I tell you I would have bathed in that soup or gone dancing in fountains wherein that soup flowed, I would not be kidding you! Chad, of course, had to embarrass me by saying to our waiter:

“My wife wants to know if you sell that bisque by the vat.”


So I did what anyone in my position would do, patted my “pregnant” belly and laughed and chalked it up to raging hormones.

Anyway – after constantly chanting under my breath “do NOT lick the bowl… do NOT lick the bowl”, said bowl was soon whisked away and our entrées were brought out. I had the Eggplant parm with pasta. Fabulous!!! These people don’t just make a nice little marinara. No. They make a thick Italian RED GRAVY!!! It is so good you could slap everyone you ever knew. He had some sort of redfish, breaded, fried and topped with lump crab meat then drizzled hollandaise and meuniere sauce. It was good!

I only ate about 4 bites of my entrée before I about puked right onto the table. Thus – dessert at the restaurant was out of the question. Dessert to go was the answer. Sadly – that answer did not include chocolate crème brulee which the waiter didn’t advise we attempt to take home and eat later. I got the bread pudding with rum and raspberry sauce (which I gagged down later while watching Queer Eye).

Anyway – all in all - a beautiful night (minus the gas factory that my intestines became later on of course.)

3:57 p.m. ::
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