I was halfway through writing my blog for today when the general came into the kitchen and gave me a hug. She said: "Happy Anniversary!" It caught me totally off-guard. A day late and a dollar short seems to be the story of my life.
In my head, I know that our anniversary is June 15th. The calendar inside my head had today down as June 14th. I've been wrong before.
She asked me yesterday what I wanted to do for our anniversary? It didn't occur to me that our anniversary was today? I had the good sense to say: "We need to do something special."
I suggested that we go to a really nice restaurant. She was a step ahead of me. She had picked out a restaurant in Johnson City, but she said: "It is kind of expensive."
She had looked at the menu and thought she might order schnitzel. She was obviously playing games with my head. I have never heard of schnitzel. When I asked what it was, she said: "German food." That was the catalyst for sauerkraut to surface in the resources of my thinking. I did not automatically think that schnitzel and sauerkraut are two choices that hold any culinary interest for me.
Don't get me wrong, if we were in Germany, schnitzel and sauerkraut might be a consideration. That seems compatible with the thought: "When in Rome, do as the Romans do."
Why didn't we have the presence of mind to be in Germany? Visiting that country is on my bucket list and what better time than our 56th anniversary? Like I said, a day late and a dollar short seems to hold true.
I remember our 47th anniversary only because I wrote it down. We really hadn't envisioned a cozy candlelight dinner for two. It was a special occasion, but why go overboard? Besides that, it doesn't get dark until way past our dinnertime. A dinner by candlelight wasn't going to work.
Actually, dinner by candlelight would work for me anytime. The General, not so much! She wants to be able to see what she is eating. For our 47th anniversary, we decided to stick close to home. No one in their right mind wants to drive into Austin. We wanted to have dinner in a nice restaurant where we could leisurely take our time and enjoy the evening. In the right setting, we might decide to dine outside. The weather was comfortable.
The General recommended Trattoria Lisina in Driftwood.The ambiance and setting of that restaurant could easily transport one in their imagination to the Tuscany countryside in Italy. The restaurant is located on the grounds of The Mandola Estate and Vineyard. I took off work early in order for us to have plenty of time.
When I arrived at home, The General asked if I thought we should telephone for reservations? We've been married a long time. I know her well enough to know that what I think is important, but it doesn't always take precedence over what she thinks.
However, instead of suggesting it was her call (pardon the pun), I played the hand I was dealt and simply said, "It is Monday night. Trust me, there won't be that many people at the restaurant".
I had no idea at the time how prophetic my words would become. Wasn't it Jesus who said, "A prophet has no honor in his own country?" Trust me, Jesus was right.
True to my word, when we turned into the elaborate gateway of the Mandola Estate and Vineyard, we didn't find ourselves in the midst of a traffic jam. Actually, as we approached the restaurant, it was almost with a sense of disbelief. There was not one single car in the parking lot.
Apparently the General was shocked. I'm not making this up. She asked, "Do you think they are closed on Mondays?" I thought, but wisely refrained from saying: "Bill Engvall needs to add a stanza to his song, 'Here's Your Sign"'.
If you've not heard the song before, the lyrics are saturated with both humor and truth. (How's that for subtly saying there are some stupid people in the word?") I will provide you a tangible example. One stanza state:
"It's like before my wife and I moved from Texas to California our house was full of boxes and there was a U-Haul truck in our driveway".
"My friend comes over and says, "Hey, You moving?"
"Nope."
"We just pack our stuff up once or twice a week. Just to see how many boxes it takes."
"Here's your sign."
With the wisdom of Solomon, I voluntary opted to take a vow of silence and refrain from attempting to be funny. However, I did ask, "Do you have a "Plan B" in mind? She answered, "We've got something at home to eat. Let's just go home".
Initially, I was resistive. However, we both agreed that going home made more sense. In making the decision, I should have asked the General what we had at home to eat. As it turned out, we had cornbread and beans.
At that time, the last thing I'd have agreed to eat was cornbread and beans. For one thing, I didn't like cornbread. Secondly, it really isn't a meal unless it has at least three courses.
Instead of having a fancy meal for our 47th anniversary, the General and I had a very pleasant evening in our home. When you stop to think about it, there is no place like home. If I want to add imagination to the venue, I can imagine we shared cornbread and beans in the Tuscany countryside of Italy in the privacy of our own estate. We, too, had a gate. It was not nearly as picturesque and elaborate as the one at the Mandola Estate and Vineyard, but it does have a sense of country charm. In addition, the view from our home looks very similar to the Tuscany countryside.
Driving from the closed venue of restaurant back to our home, I thought about Chuck Berry's song " 'C'est la vie" released in 1972. The first stanza put a smile on my face:
"It was a teenage wedding,
and the old folks wished them well
You could see that Pierre
did truly love the mademoiselle
And now the young monsieur
and madame have rung the chapel bell,
"C'est la vie", say the old folks,
it goes to show you never can tell"
All My Best!
Don
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