For our anniversary, Skylar and I went out for a proper meal at Mrs. Murphy and Sons Irish Bistro. We don't get out much. Sure, we go to places that give you crayolas when you sit down, but not to places with three pages of a drink menu devoted to Whiskey and Bourbon. We were in heaven.
We heard that the TV show Skylar works on was moving to Connecticut a month ago. Since then it has been weeks of sleepless nights, weighing our options, wondering if he will get more pay cuts, if he will lose his job, thinking he might have to start work in LA this month. We finally had closure and a night out to celebrate.
The food. I just want to a curl into a ball on the floor right now just thinking about how good it was. Guinness and onion soup, there are no words. The entire meal was one mouth watering bite after another. The cocktails were phenomenal. The restaurant is gorgeous, old, dark, a large wood burning fire place to cozy up to. If we did not have a baby and a budget, I would have spent all winter there.
There were two men sitting next to us. Skylar thinks they were chefs, but they could have been food critics. They broke down their meal into words. Unkind words. "Don't get me wrong, I like acorn squash, just not cooked like this. In oil." "Am I supposed to eat this? Can I have a separate plate to set it on?" Yes. He seriously asked for a plate to set the food he was not going to eat on. God forbid it share space with the food he was going to eat. I'm not sure where these men normally eat, but they do not color at the table, for sure.
Of course it got me thinking about all the complaining I've been doing. So many people would be delighted to live in Connecticut, a short train ride away from The City. So many people, including us, are delighted to have a job, and benefits. There is so much we have to look forward to, the fall of our dreams, big old houses, clam chowder, New York, the beach, fishing, new friends.
Yesterday morning, before her nap, Harper brought me her "Goodnight Chicago" book. I started balling. Right there in front of her. I probably cried in front of her when she was a newborn, out of lack of sleep and frustration and need to pee. This was different. This was naked sadness. I could not stop it. Even her nap time story "Elmo's Guessing Game About Colors" made me sob. As I read to her about how Elmo's friends make him think about different colors, I thought about my friends, the ones I miss so much in Los Angeles, and new friends I will soon leave here.
Damn you Elmo.
(Harper seemed unfazed entirely by my crying. I guess, if there is one thing I should have learned from her by now, it is that it is o.k. to cry.)
