One down, two to go...
Tax Day came and went. I'm thirty now. I could write a thoughtful post about the passage of time and all that rot, but I won't. Here are a few pictures instead.
John didn't have to work the day before my birthday, so the girls and I took a break from school. Right after I tucked the girls in for naptime, my mom poked her head through the door. John had arranged a surprise, it's-the-day-before-your-birthday date for us. He completely surprised me (it's not that hard), and we took off, just the two of us.
It was a very good day. Here are the few pictures I took.
We went bowling. The last time we bowled together was on our honeymoon, so this was awfully fun, even as the lonely man on our right bowled a series of strikes, which made my gutter balls seem more gutter-y. In fact, I don't think I saw him bowl anything but a strike the entire time we were there. Neither John nor I broke 100, though John came close. (He whupped me seven years ago, too.)
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Then he drove us to a fancy Indian restaurant. FANCY! I haven't dined often in fancy restaurants (this is the second; remember the first?), and I always feel a bit nervous, but this restaurant was wonderful. John's parents gave us a plump gift card for Christmas, and it was so much fun to choose whatever we wanted from the menu.
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We began the meal with shrimp poori. The shrimp was the size of my head.
Followed by potato curry and mulligatawny (lentil soup). Sorry-- we ate the soup before I took a picture. So you can imagine it, the color was brownish-green. Above is the potato curry.
John ordered the tandoori mixed grill, A.K.A., an intimidating platter of sizzling meat. My favorite of these was the reshmi kebab. Oh, yum.
I confidently ordered chicken vindaloo (enter stage left), not knowing exactly what it was. The waitress asked, "Um. Do you know how spicy it is?" I hadn't, but I told her we liked spicy food. We do. It was delicious.
We had yummy leftovers for lunch the next day, and then some. Thank you, Mom-Owen and Dude! Now if only I could discover a way to replicate these dreamy dishes in my kitchen, we'd be set.
Lastly, the requisite serious portrait of Self in Public Restroom, Presumably Resting.
Look at that 29-year old, never again to walk this earth. She looks so YOUNG!