What Happens When You Give Two Overworked People A Night Off

Back in May we celebrated our Elopmentversary. And last night we celebrated our Wedding Anniversary (the Catholic Version of our vow recital). I dropped Jacob off at my parent's house, our first night apart, so we could enjoy a dinner out on the town and a night at a nearby hotel.

So it was a two star hotel, but HELLO, any hotel room without a baby means one full night of pure uninterrupted sleeping BLISS!! By the way this was the same two star hotel that my dad booked us for the night of our wedding (yeah, he's a REAL splurger that one). But I have to admit this year we CHOSE to return to this particular hotel, not for the romanticism of reliving our first night, but solely for the make-your-own waffle breakfast bar. This could become our own little white trash tradition.

We ate out at this place that had great atmosphere- there is library room with a fireplace and you can eat on COUCHES! My husband never lets me eat on the couch at home!- but the food was not so great. My burger was burnt on the outside and raw on the inside. Plus the lemon drop, which I only ordered for the sugar rimmed glass and did not COME with a sugar rimmed glass, tasted the way rubbing alcohol smells.

Then we went to a bar near our hotel so we could stumble back by foot. I recognized our bartender right away- she was someone I went to middle school with. I was too embarassed to say anything because I was a major nerd in middle school and I didn't want her to remember me. Then my lovely husband yelled from across the room, "Hey, she went to middle school with you!"

When the bartender looked at us like we were crazy, I asked, "Is your name Ashley?"
"Yes!"
I responded with, "Do you remember Cee" as if the past me were another person. As she was thinking, I almost qualified my question with "you know, the girl with the short hair who read star wars books in the hallway walking to class, who always sat in the very front and volunteered to answer grammar questions? yah, her. well, she's me." Turns out she did remember me and was nice enough to forgo any comments about my past nerdiness.

After a couple rounds of drinks my drunk self asked for a Mongolian Margarita which it turns out is actually called a Moonglow Margarita. Later in a mment of brilliance, my husband and I decided that Taco Bell's next competitor should be called Taco Chime.

We returned to the two-star hotel for the Grand Finale of drinks, a bottle of oregon raspberry wine we'd been saving for a year, only to realize that we didn't bring a corkscrew. Yeah, I'm not a details person. Then (forgive the forwardness) we enjoyed fifteen minutes of amazing, long overdue drunken sex (the best kind). Somehow, during our little session, the headboard came off the wall (don't look at ME!).

The best part of the night (after the drunken sex) was that the next morning, my husband forgot I had taken a picture of him drinking a cosmo in the nude while lounging on the bed. So it is now uploaded to my computer. SCORE!

Oh and I only cheked my phone for messages like five times (an hour).