Don’t Call the Police

Well, it looks like I made it back in one piece: my husband did take me somewhere, The Heathman Hotel, as a matter of fact. We had dinner there (the lamb was excellent); they even put a little candle in my bread pudding…awww….

But it didn’t stop there: the next night he surprised me one more time by arranging a surprise birthday party for me at the Red Star Tavern (the lamb was excellent). It was enjoyable, even though I looked like I had just woken up from a two-hour nap (which I had). I was looking a little like Rob Schneider in The Hot Chick. Fortunately no incriminating pixs were taken….

Unfortunately, by doing this for me, my husband has taken away one of my most cherished guilt trips: the fact that no one’s ever thrown a surprise party for me, though I’ve thrown two of them for my husband, including one that involved flying him to San Francisco. I love the guy, but a girl can only take so much–now I have to come up with a new birthday-related guilt trip. Any suggestions?

One Response

  1. Malcolm X. Alonzo
    Malcolm X. Alonzo December 19, 2012 at 6:15 pm | | Reply

    I take it you love lamb. So do I. I’m thoroughly enjoying your blog, although I am trying to savor it, a few posts at a time.

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