Happy anniversary, happy anniversary, haaaaaapy anniversary!

(The photo is of my husband as Marriage Commissioner for the Shuswap conducting one of this summer's weddings -- particularly lovely wedding for a particularly lovely couple. photo Amy Boutwell)

We had a wedding anniversary this week and in honour of the occasion, we went to the neighbouring (larger) community for our dinner date and chose an East Side Mario's for our dinner location.

There among bjillions of framed Little Italy photos, candles in Chianti bottles and the delicious scent of garlic, we were waited on by staff wearing grass-skirts and leis. East Side Mario's was having Hawaiian Days. They had a karaoke couple set up on the patio where we were eating and that was all about country music. I detest country music. It was a very bizarre evening. Very multi-culturally Canadian, I suppose.

My husband declared his meal "very good." Mine was okay.

The entire situation was so far removed from my continuing dream of having a romantic dinner that I suppose its time I abandon the dream.

Last year on our anniversary my mother organized a gathering of our very nice friends and she chose a restaurant in our little village for the 'do.' The restaurant was totally understaffed and as a result, the wait for food was so long one of the guests left and went to Tim Horton's for something to eat. When we arrived, the sun's heat was smothering. Mind you, it was our choice to be seated on the outside patio. We waited so long for our meal that we were shivering in the dark by the time it arrived. The food was mediocre at best. Mother declared the evening "fantastic," bless her.

The year prior we were in Calgary. My dear wonderful cousin, his beautiful wife, and a precious friend visiting from Switzerland, along with her companions, joined us for our anniversary repast. We went to a downtown upscale steak house. There, we waited ions for the food and were chilled to the bone from the excessive air-conditioning. For this, the bill was nearly equal to a mortgage payment!

So, what to do? Prepare and serve the meal myself, you say. I know, I know, I am a outstanding cook and I set a lovely table. But I do that hundreds of times every year. Therefore, the meal I haven't cooked is cherished
Guess it's all about the suspenseful wait to see what happens next year...

Stop whining, you say. Just make the dinner reservation where I want it to take place. Novel notion. Might just try that.