Yesterday the boy and I celebrated our 7th wedding anniversary.
Hooray!! Who knew that a tawdry encounter between two self-absorbed people focused on playing the field would ever turn into something lasting and sickeningly sweet??
My super amazing husband was very thoughtful - knowing that I would be both tired and stressed out from the worst business trip of my life, he went for something low-key and vegetatively fun.
We had a greasy breakfast and then watched the beginning of Battlestar Galactica Season 3 (all episodes TiVo'd during a SciFi BG marathon). Then we watched some more Battlestar Galactica.
For dinner, we went to Portland City Grill and my table had a lovely arrangement of roses and orchids! I'd been craving oysters so I ordered some on the half shell. Errr. The first one was fine. But I didn't notice that the second one had an odd smell to it until it was already in my mouth and halfway down my throat.
Hmm... I made him smell the shell and this is what we came up with: it smelled like something rotten mixed with vomit.
It tasted worse. Blech.
So, we called our waiter over and made him smell the oysters too. I think he stood here for a good 5 minutes smelling our oysters over and over again until I made him stop because it was just getting silly. He and the chef assured me that it was normal for some oysters to be more pungent then others and that I would not get sick... and I didn't but that taste/smell will not soon be forgotten.
As a necessity, we HAD to run over to Voodoo donuts to wash the stench from our palates and nostrils.
Then back home for more Battlestar Galactica!!
Also, in lieu of traditional gifts, we bought a new painting for our bedroom. It's HUGE (40x40) and it balances that huge wall opposite the window. It's hard to see the artwork clearly in this picture and I tried several times to capture how vivid the blues and greens are but ... alas even my newly found camera skills are no match for the glare of light on non-coated glass.
In the next few days, we'll have our new nightstands. A few more pictures and finishing touches and the bedroom sanctuary will be officially complete.
Moral of this story: Say no to oysters that smell.