Eleven years, man! Eleven! Years!*

* Points for figuring out who said (roughly) that, in what movie.

The day of our anniversary dawned bright and early. Unfortunately, we missed it. Instead of going out to the nice breakfast we'd had planned, we had to rush around to get Caitlin ready to go to her first of 2 separate birthday parties. After dropping her off at the first one at 10am, we went out for breakfast at a local place that we thought we remembered as being OK. Not high end, but OK. Good enough for the starving Preggosaurus, at any rate!

Oh were we wrong.

Let me give you a little hint: if your menu ever says "We proudly serve...Hormel, Heinz, Kraft, Ore-Ida, Green Giant..." and the like, you are most likely not in for the taste bud tantalizing meal of your life. Instead, you are in for a Breakfast of Sadness. It might even look like this:

What was I thinking?! All I wanted was a waffle, with fresh blueberries and raspberries on a nice, crisp Belgian waffle. Maybe some whipped cream - from a can would be OK, so long as it was real, you know? Some eggs and a couple of slices of bacon for the protein content and I'd be good to go. Instead, I got berries that had clearly been frozen and defrosted and plopped onto my soggy, decidedly non-crisp, very poor excuse for a Belgian waffle. Oh and goodness only knows what the syrup was - I'm betting straight corn syrup with "caramel food coloring".

Horrors!

I was frankly scared of what might be in the bacon, but was desperate to eat something, so I ate the eggs and the bacon, drank the clearly reconstituted orange juice and tried not to weep for my denied celebratory breakfast.

The Moral of the Story: Do NOT mess with a pregnant foodie woman's food!

Eric spent the next two meals making it up to me. He felt awful, even though it clearly wasn't his fault. Considering that the weekend before we had been noshing delightedly on fresh raspberry-strawberry-banana crepes with both blintz and Suzette sauces, this was clearly an aberration. A horrible trip down Middle American Food Lane. I think a few of my taste buds committed suicide, but I'm not sure.

We waddled off to the bookstore (Have I told you I'm waddling now, after I've been sitting too long?) to grab the bookstore to get a present for the next party. Books - yum! Got a couple for us as well.

After we recovered Caitlin from the first party (Who was up to the cake and ice cream part of her party when we arrived and even that food was terrible!) and then immediately dropped her off at the next party, we immediately went to lunch (Yes, I'm that hungry, a lot, but it was made worse by not eating a filling breakfast) at one of my favorite yuppie food locations. I had calamari with mizuna greens - sort of an appetizer salad and an Arnold Palmer (iced tea and lemonade mixed together, in case you didn't know).

It was

SO.

MUCH.

BETTER.

My feelings of nausea and sadness went away. The cure for Yuppie Foodie Depression: fancy Asian inspired calamari. Mmmmm! No photos of that, though. We were too busy eating.

After collecting Caitlin again, we returned home where we engaged in the celebratory General Hanging About Phase. Lounging on the sofa with my feet up, reading my new book. Reflecting on how last year we were in another country on a whole 'nother continent and eating fabulous food and walking for miles every day. And reflecting on the fact that we won't be doing that again for years and years and years. And then we considered weeping, but we were too busy planning our celebratory dinner at a fabulous Indian restaurant with completely addictive Chai. It's where Lee and Misty had their reception dinner.

Mmmmmm - chai tea!

Then more and more book reading until it struck me that we've been married so long that a quiet evening at home, unable to find a babysitter for Caitlin wasn't so bad after all!

Here's to you, Eric! Eleven long years.

Thanks for still being my confidante and conspirator.

I love you to the moon and back!