Our anniversary dinner date was lovely.
The man had hired a car, so we wouldn't have to worry about driving. We left the kids in the capable hands of my mother, who was staying overnight. And even better, my sister, her husband and my cutesie niece came up to have dinner and a visit with them. When we headed out the door, only my sister was there to wish us a good evening. The kids were already off partying. Signs of things to come, I suppose.
Le Select Bistro was a great spot. The decor and ambiance was very much that of a Parisian bistro, and even better...no attitude from the waiter. (Okay, I know I'm stereotyping here, but I've had first hand experience of seeing a server get upset at a colleague because HE had heard the order wrong and brought back a sandwich without ham...another story for another day...).
So where were we...oh yeah, back at the bistro...
A beer for the gentleman and a lychee martini for the lady please. Very nice.
Puff pastry appetizers (escargot of course), lamb and slow cooked beef short-ribs entrees and a lovely bottle of wine from one of the hugest wine cellars I have seen in a restaurant. Wonderful, knowledgeable service amidst the quiet buzz of many a customer having a fine dining experience.
We didn't set the place on fire this time. At least not with actual flames.
After dinner, we walked up Spadina Ave. to Queen Street to enjoy some cocktails on the patio of the Rivoli. Quite a different scene. It was funny because this was just a couple doors over from the original site of Le Select, before it moved to its new location three years ago.
We ordered a couple of G & T's, and set about people watching while we sat amongst a patio of Queen Street hipsters. We've brought the kids down here many times, but hadn't had the opportunity to enjoy the vibe at night just by ourselves in a very long time.
I laughed about the henna tattoo I got a lifetime ago at the neighbouring Le Chateau ... we watched with interest as gaggles of young women walked by wearing sky-high stilettos and skirts barely covering their arses...a family walked by, with Mom pushing the stroller while Dad wore baby and they all wore matching afros ... we got annoyed as the groups of smokers outside of the restaurant hovered in front of us ... the signs from the huge H & M across the street were a bright reminder that indeed, this Queen Street was not the same that we had frequented as students. We noticed the students in their ripped jeans, slouchy hats with their carefree attitudes and we talked about whether we wished to be them again. So much has changed in 16 years.
We got caught up. Turns out there wasn't too much catching up to do. After all these years, we're still in tune with each other. Which in all honesty, was the most beautiful part of the whole evening.
The boys went to see GI Joe the next day. A solid nine out of ten is what the boy rated the movie. What was the story about? He didn't really know, but it didn't matter. Action, it's all about the action, Mom.
The man brought home Famous Magazine and said: "Do you think I look like him*? A little? He's your type isn't he, fair, light eyes..."
I replied, "Actually, he does kind of look like you. Like 15 years ago..."
And so I checked. And he did. Sorta.
(In more ways than one obviously. I finally got rid of that "Gilligan borrowed John Lennon's glasses and traded in the sailor shirt for a beater" look. Thank gawd.)
*I have yet to see the Hangover, but I hear it's hilarious. In the most immature way, I'm sure, but who ever said I was overly mature?
Musical memory, here's one of our fave songs of 1993...