The hubs and I try to make a point of going out as grown ups once a month for “Staff Meetings”. OK, so they’re actually “Date Nights” but Olivia used to have some pretty hardcore separation anxiety and when we would say that Mommy and Daddy were going “to dinner” she would go a little nuts-o and beg and plead, with big giant tears, to go with us. Somehow we figured out that going to “Meetings” was an easier pill to swallow. Meetings = Boring. Dinner = Fun.
Parenting is about survival, people. Desperate times sometimes call for desperate measures.
Last night, we took a field trip into the Big City and headed downtown to Purple. They didn’t have reservations available until 10pm (I can neither confirm nor deny that I may or may not have waited until the last minute to check on availability), so we were all set to eat in the bar, which is fine by me. After all, the shortest distance between two points IS a straight line. Except replace one of the points with my Lemon Drop and the other point with my mouth.
We were upgraded, though, to a quaint little window seat and the night just got better from there.
At this point I should tell you that Purple is not sponsoring this post. This is an independent review and the opinions are entirely mine. I should probably also tell you that if someone from Purple reads this and feels compelled to send me free coupons, I am not too proud to accept them, thank you very much.
Alright, enough rambling. I’m just going to cut straight to the chase and tell you right now that the place rocks and we had a fantastic time. Here’s how it played out, with visual aids.*
*Disclaimer: this is not a food blog. If you’ve come here by mistake, thinking maybe that “begin from here” is a how-to on Perfecting Your First Soufflé in 3 Easy Steps, I do appreciate you stopping by and will not be offended if you quietly move along. All I have in my culinary toolbox is an iPhone and an appetite, and I’m not afraid to use either of them.
A sampling of some of our yummy eats (and sips). The gorgonzola stuffed dates in the lower left corner? Culinary crack, my friends.
Best view in the house, right there.
Alright, this blog isn’t subtitled “Confessions” on accident. I’m going to tell you right now that I was 99% sure our server was going to ask us to leave on account of my bad jokes and smart ass behavior. Is it my fault that I overhead him explaining the specials to the next table over, and felt it my duty as a patron to DEMAND he give us the full play-by-play even though we were on our last course? I think this is perfectly reasonable.
Anyway, he gave us free chocolates and a “Great Guest” discount. Although secretly I think he wanted to call it an “Apologies to The Poor Husband” discount. Either way, score for us.
In an effort to just get us the hell out of the place, he agreed to let us climb way up up up to the wine cellar tower and snap a picture. He drew the line at calling us VIPs, though. I have no idea why.
In other news, John found a little camera on major clearance for our little shutterbug to take on vacation next week. Of course we had to try it out to make sure it worked. It was the display model. She’s 5. She’ll never know.
You can’t see it from the back, but it’s a fun shade of red that I think she’ll like, a.k.a. not lose immediately.
She loves taking pictures, and this new model is just a slight upgrade from the one she has been using. Here’s a picture of her (complete with click-clook camera sound effects) taking a photo of her imaginary sister, Louie, who lives in China and has a pet giraffe and a mom named Angela. Louie’s dad died tragically from consuming cat food pie. Olivia visits Louie in the middle of the night while we are sleeping.
I love this kid and her imagination. Though we have had to dodge a few awkward moments when she talks about Louie and their shenanigans in public.
In summary, I am going to stop playing Russian roulette with the little red dot on the gas gauge of my car. Just as soon as I can find a straight shot downhill to the nearest gas station.
What do you regret putting off to the last minute? I’d love to hear from you! And I’ll totally understand if you wait until tomorrow to post an answer.