Like my date?
Oh, I kid. We really did have a date night last night. My sister Ana had a 70’s themed birthday party. Seeing as how my parents manage to have a life of their own (how dare they!) and have skipped town for a few days, we actually had to get a real sitter. The kind you pay. This just happens to be the sitter’s dad. Obviously, I didn’t go all out, but Mike did have this fabulous shirt with the big ol’ collar.
We left the party on the early side, on account of 90% of the people there are smokers and we can only handle so much smoke. It was only 9 p.m., so we couldn’t go home – that would break the cardinal rule of having a sitter: never go home before you are SURE she has the kids asleep. Mike suggested we go somewhere for dessert and coffee. The only place I can come up with is Steak-n-Shake. Mike was thinking more along the line of really good dessert, so we end up at Peterson’s. This is the really nice place we went to for my birthday, that just also happens to employ the person voted Indy’s best pastry chef. We forgot that we look like total buffoons. They were nice enough not to snicker, though. Dessert and coffee turned into lobster bisque and a glass of wine (me) and a filet and au gratin potatoes (Mike). In my defense, I’d only had a hard-boiled egg for dinner. In Mike’s defense (he’d had McDonalds for dinner) it was only a petit filet. Plus creme brulee for dessert. It was a very good night.
Since I can’t figure out how to reply directly to a comment this is for you, Janet: Spoken like only a person who has seen Mike in his underwear can! FYI for everyone else, there isn’t a soul that lived in Dodds Hall in 93-94 who didn’t see Mike in his Beavis and Butthead boxer shorts. So with that mental image I’ll call it a night.