After juggling work and childcare schedules, Jeff and I found ourselves in Beverly Hills tonight for a wonderful celebration of our marriage. We treated ourselves to a glutonous feast at Fogo de Chao, a Brazillian meat-fest. Of course, Jeff came prepared, armed with 432 foodie reviews of the place. "Don't do the salad bar first -- they just want you filling up on the cheap stuff." "Don't eat the cheese bread -- then you'll be too full for the meat." So, I headed for the salad bar and I ate a piece of cheese bread. That's how marriage works, right?
Imagine this -- you sit down and flip a card from the red to the green side, signalling a team of Brazillian cowboy "goucho" meat slicer men to approach your table from every angle with different slabs of meat on a large vertical skewer. "Prime rib?" "Pork ribs?" "Angus?" "Bacon-wrapped chicken?" etc. etc. etc. There were 19 cuts of meat. Needless to say, you learn to flip the card from green to red to give yourself a chance to eat. And to breathe. Additionally, they keep the side dishes coming -- carmelized bananas, garlic mashed potatoes, etc.
The company was even better than the food. We talked about our lives four years ago and how things were different, better, unexpected, fantastic. We counted our blessings and thanked each other for each other.
Then raced back home to make it for story time (and to relieve Auntie Godmother from childcare duties.) After that, we burned the unity candle from our wedding -- an anniversary tradition.
Happy anniversary, love of my life.
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