Getting ticked at each other over fondue (we had a coupon) is a waste of good fruit, not to mention somewhat dangerous. A strawberry just recently drowned in hot chocolate and expertly lobbed at your left eye adds new meaning to the expression, "his black eye ironically looked extremely bloodshot." (You did not read that expression in Shakespeare, or anywhere else for that matter, but I'm planning on starting my first novel with it.)
Thankfully, though, my bride and I were in wonderful spirits with each other (not alcoholic spirits, although I do confess to a single John Adams which I had merely to show my patriotic solidarity with his second cousin, President John Adams).
All in all, I can say it was a very pleasant evening. I think Mrs B would say the same. At least, she smiled at all the right times, and I didn't notice any tears. As a simple guy, I take those to be excellent omens.
The biggest dilemma of the evening was how to share this great event with the world. I mean, if people can waste my time daily on Facebook with inane posts like, "nothing much happening today, just chillin,'" then surely I can announce to the cosmos with great joy that Doreen and I have made it through 29 years without even one chocolate strawberry in the eye!
To be continued. . .
