Last month — no, two months ago — Paul and I celebrated our eleventh anniversary. I tried to remember what we had done for each of our previous anniversaries but my memory was blurry.
For the first was it Roy’s in Hawaii Kai or something in Hale’iwa? (Jameson’s by the Sea? Hale’iwa Joe’s?)
For our second, it was certainly something in Detroit, but I don’t remember.
Our third was at the restaurant where I had been working in Lexington, VA, Paul made special arrangements with my boss (/the chef / the owner) for a delightful Milanese meal, not on the menu at this Napolitano restaurant. For the record, the risotto was good, but not better than Paul’s.
For our fourth anniversary we took a trip down to Ashville, NC.
I can’t remember how we spent our fifth anniversary, but we were in California by then.
For our sixth anniversary we ate at CPK, mimicking what we had done eight months earlier when I went into labour with our firstborn.
I think we went to the Melting Pot in Pasadena (with Little Red in tow) for our seventh anniversary.
I have no idea what we did for our eighth anniversary.
My Mum was in town for our ninth anniversary, and we celebrated, sans children, at Damon’s in Glendale.
Last year we went to Roy’s in Pasadena for our tenth anniversary. It was fun to remember eating at the original Roy’s in the early days of our marriage, but it felt strange to be in California at a restaurant we associate so strongly with our memories of Hawaii. I think we may have also seen a movie after dinner. With the boys getting older, and with cousins now living close, the amount of time we spent away on dates has been expanded.
This year we dined at the Black Cow Cafe in Montrose, followed by the movie Inception. (My dear friend Carrie Cox babysat the boys and while she has sinced moved to Torrance, the boys have asked repeatedly for her.)
It’s been a good life. I was young when I made the decision to marry Paul, but I’m so very glad I did.