Today was our eleventh wedding anniversary. We wrote a new chapter in the book of anticlimaxes by exchanging no gifts and dining, with Julia and two $5-entree coupons, at the Northfield Applebees. Our waitress wore no flair, sadly, though she and others did do one of those obnoxious happy birthday songs for another customer. However, Julia loved their singing and clapping routine, all the geegaws on the walls, the frequent comings and goings of customers and employees, and the food, so all in all it was quite a nice time. If some jerk had told me, on August 13, 1995, that eleven years later I'd be having my anniversary dinner with Shannon at a rural Applebees and feeding one kid while another made ready her debut, I'd probably have lit out for Ostrobothnia. Which would have been quite stupid, because it's been a wonderful eleven years, and the next eleven promise to be even better.

email: christopher at tassava dot com