Posted in Joy, Humor

Happy Anniversary!

So today is my anniversary! Well, not just mine. It’s Robert’s too … our Fifth Wedding Anniversary … December 9th! (We’ve been together longer, but purist Robert didn’t want to get married until we could legally do so in Georgia— back in 2016.)

We’re in Atlanta to celebrate. The Alliance Theatre’s new adaptation of A Christmas Carol last night. So good, with deeper character development than usual. God blessed us everyone! And heading to the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra’s Christmas with the ASO tonight. “Culture” is our middle name.

Here’s the very cool anniversary pop-up (or is it pop-out?) card Robert gave me.

Again, always the purist, he likes to find cards that are made Specifically for Gay Folks. (Whereas I just grab one from the Dollar Tree and use white out to get rid of the woman’s hair and … etc. and use a permanent black magic marker to messily but effectively transform “wife” into “husband.”)

Isn’t it cute? I loved it. It’s so pop-uppy, colorful and GAY — in every sense of the word!

TIB (Truth in Blogging): We’re not both black.

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And here’s a little anniversary bouquet we got for our midtown Atlanta rental’s little “dining room” table.

Wait, you need a close-up, don’t you? Let me snap one real quick.

Here you go. Well, Lo and Behold! Look toward the back of the pic above. Santa pants! And we all know from yesterday’s post “Robert and …” #6 EXACTLY what that means: Robert’s nearby!

So I interrupted him fussing around in the kitchen doing who knows what (he’s always throwing it up to me that he went to ”Chef’s School”) and told him to wave at our thousands, hundreds, dozens single-digits of blog fans.

P.S. Google just reminded me that a traditional Fifth Anniversary gift is Wood. (And my phone’s calculator cruelly taunted me that I’ll be 114 on our Fiftieth Diamond Anniversary! I just depowered my phone.) Anyway, on the off chance that you haven’t gotten our Wooden Gift yet, here are a couple of suggestions:

We watched The Queen’s Gambit! And I would like to try that looking-up-at-the-ceiling strategy.

I see nothing.

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This wooden nutcracker would SO come in handy. Remember that big bowl of nuts from yesterday’s post?

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!

Wedding Day, 2016
With daughters Amy and Sarah
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.