Michael and I went to dinner at Luci's last night. It's a little neighbor hood Italian place next to a barber shop on the corner of Cleveland and Randolph in St. Paul. We had a bottle of Sonoma Zinfindel called Trinitas; because we've walked those hills, wine from Sonoma tastes better.
I ordered Spaghetti con cozze (mussels) and he ordered the salmon. We both had insalada mista and practically inhaled two baskets of bread. As he offered the last piece of the first basket he noted it was buttered. "Did you do that?" "No you did," I answered. "Oh," he shrugged and popped it whole into his mouth. His butter, his bread I guess.
The couple next to us, well into their middle age, were on a date. I think the second date. They were careful with their conversation, clearly sharing new information and spiritedly discussing ideas. Wanting to create their entire back story, I decided they were college professors. That decision was based on the proliferation of three-syllable latin-based words. (Note my 5-syllable word in the last sentence!)
The guy was a cartoon. His gray frizzy hair was pulled into a half-inch pony tail. He was warm and his round, Dilbert glasses were steamed up. The thinning hair on the top of his that couldn't reach the rubber band defied gravity and was a see-through bush towering at least 6 inches into the air. I could hardly stop staring. (Luckily he was otherwise engaged!)
They were long finished with their dinner and both wanted to keep their date going. Suddenly I heard him say, "Wow, this is almost my bed time!" "Mine too," she chirped and then proceeded to describe her bedtime ritual. (She has a red robe.) This talk about their individual beddy bye habits was sweet and pathetic. Two lonely people, lots in common, similar vocabularies, and the same bed time! Go for it!
And what was I doing listening so intently? Were Michael and I talking? Sure we were. I'm a great multi-tasker. Beside, I reported on their courtship throughout the dinner. Sadly, I don't think they hooked up!
By the way. The mussels were way too big. The garlic sauce on the spaghetti was delicious and has proven to be a gift that keeps on giving!
(13 minutes and the spell check isn't working. Go!_
I ordered Spaghetti con cozze (mussels) and he ordered the salmon. We both had insalada mista and practically inhaled two baskets of bread. As he offered the last piece of the first basket he noted it was buttered. "Did you do that?" "No you did," I answered. "Oh," he shrugged and popped it whole into his mouth. His butter, his bread I guess.
The couple next to us, well into their middle age, were on a date. I think the second date. They were careful with their conversation, clearly sharing new information and spiritedly discussing ideas. Wanting to create their entire back story, I decided they were college professors. That decision was based on the proliferation of three-syllable latin-based words. (Note my 5-syllable word in the last sentence!)
The guy was a cartoon. His gray frizzy hair was pulled into a half-inch pony tail. He was warm and his round, Dilbert glasses were steamed up. The thinning hair on the top of his that couldn't reach the rubber band defied gravity and was a see-through bush towering at least 6 inches into the air. I could hardly stop staring. (Luckily he was otherwise engaged!)
They were long finished with their dinner and both wanted to keep their date going. Suddenly I heard him say, "Wow, this is almost my bed time!" "Mine too," she chirped and then proceeded to describe her bedtime ritual. (She has a red robe.) This talk about their individual beddy bye habits was sweet and pathetic. Two lonely people, lots in common, similar vocabularies, and the same bed time! Go for it!
And what was I doing listening so intently? Were Michael and I talking? Sure we were. I'm a great multi-tasker. Beside, I reported on their courtship throughout the dinner. Sadly, I don't think they hooked up!
By the way. The mussels were way too big. The garlic sauce on the spaghetti was delicious and has proven to be a gift that keeps on giving!
(13 minutes and the spell check isn't working. Go!_
My first thought... it was a recycled bread basket and some earlier guy buttered that bread!!! Ahhhhhhh!!!
ReplyDeleteI loved the second-hand (or would it be third hand for us readers?) date. Let's hear it for middle agers!
Oh my gosh. I think you might be right. I didn't see him butter it and it had less butter than Michael usually spreads on .... Ahhhhhhh! is right!
ReplyDeleteYes. Us poor shy middle agers. It was so cute!
I don't put butter on my bread.
ReplyDeleteAnd you ate it anyway?
ReplyDelete