|b l o g|
This time, in this blog entry, I'm not going to be a monstrosity. No lists, no things I've pretended to find in the road, no comprehensive ceremonial guidelines for going about everyday business 'the right way,' just 'I did this,' 'I did that,' 'I'm actually married,' and 'here are some photographs that show (a bit) what my life is actually like.'
So: here's what happened when Amy and I went to dinner on City Island last night for our eleventh dativersary.
We were hungry and in love. First, we photographed a map. A map to go! Following the yellow line, we found a table at a restaurant near the very bottom (of the sea). Properly bibbed and ready for the foe, Amy opened her eyes for the first time. I tried to do the same. Crack! Suddenly, a lobster burst apart in front of us, disgorging not only its own broiled flesh, but clams, scallops, prawns, sole, crab, and a potato. We swashed and we buckled and we gave in and we ate. We floated on a lazy river of bliss. We saw into ourselves. And, lost in our reflections, we were not alone. We saw beyond and over ourselves. We found Upfish! But alas! even in the middle of the gay, enlightening swirl, time goes by, and we had to go. We said good-bye ('Good-bye!') to our dear new friends, made promises to meet again, and caught the last dolphin home at Hawkins Park. (Wave, wave.)