Posted in Robert and …

“Robert and …” #5

A blog category of pics I’ve taken of Hubby Robert and … well, just about anything.

Robert and the Longleaf

Ever since we read Janisse Ray’s Ecology of a Cracker Childhood and watched the beautiful documentary Secrets of the Longleaf, Robert and I have been obsessed with the majestic Longleaf Pine Tree.

The Longleaf Pine once reigned supreme, covering over 90 million acres across the coastal plain of the U.S. Now, because of logging and mismanagement, only several million acres are left.

Robert and I have been fortunate to see the stately pine and reintroduction efforts in our Georgia State Part travels.

Here’s Robert … talking to a Longleaf, while others in the background lean in to listen …

And here he is … massaging the tree …

(I try not to judge. Just document.)

Posted in Humor, Robert and …

“Robert and …” #4

A blog category of pics I’ve taken of Hubby Robert and … well, just about anything.

Robert and a Really Big Steak

A few years back, Robert and I were in Atlanta to celebrate our anniversary. On previous trips, we had passed by this architecturally interesting building off I-85 just north of the city.

Wait. What? You don’t find it all that interesting? Well, Robert didn’t either. But in the spirit of blissful anniversarial celebration, I insisted that we go for our dinner festivities.

You can see why, right? Doesn’t the name itself make you happy? All circque du soleil-ish and island-drinky!

We walked through the classy daiquiri bar to get to our table. Walked too quickly, if you ask me.

Robert wouldn’t let me stop. Even though they had a wonderful selection …

Robert was hungry, so we quickly perused the menu, and my eyes immediately found the Tomahawk for two. It WAS our anniversary after all.

Here’s Cirque’s menu description of the big steak:

Neither of us being very good with numbers, 36 ounces sounded like enough for both of us.

After endearing anniversary chit-chat (“But why don’t you want to celebrate with that pretty blue daiquiri?”), 36 ounces finally made their way to our table.

We were both simply shocked. (Why didn’t we do our math homework in eighth grade?!) Here’s my husband, with a somewhat crazed and confused look on his celebratory face, holding our dinner soon after it arrived. It was far too heavy for me to pick up, but I wanted a scrapbook pic for posterity.

Hours later, and 36 plus ounces heavier, we slowly waddled back past the daiquiri bar (I was too stuffed to take a final longing glance at the “Blue Mutha”—the Tomahawk had “Shut my Mouth”) and into the Atlanta midnight.

A BIG anniversary celebration.