So, no confession today. Well, sorta. I want to blog in a more boring way. More of a "day to day" sorta post. Sorry if you're bored by it or offended by warm fuzziness, though it's not so warm fuzzy. I want to tell you about my Valentine's Day.
However, I want to share my REAL Valentine's Day. I was typing up my Valetine's Day for the blog the family has access to - the G-rated, boring, menu-centered version - and felt more inclined to share some of the things I can't share there.
Joe made us a dinner reservation at 6:30, destination unknown to me. Given my anxiety issues, I figured this meant he intended to kill me. Despite his fabulous intentions, I don't do well with surprises. And the last fancy place we went out to was for my birthday last March, during which I spent the entire meal in the bathroom. What a waste of money and shaving my legs.
Last night, I kept myself distracted until we left for our reservation. We went to an upscale steakhouse, were seated promptly in the far end of the far dining room, and even though I was fine until that point, I promptly started to freak out. Yay claustrophobia! I felt trapped and it seemed hot in there (Joe says no, it was actually sorta cool). My mind was fine but my tummy said otherwise. I ignored it for as long as possible and finally told Joe to order whatever appetizer he wanted while I hit the ladies' room (I'm totally not confident about that apostrophe, btw).
A quick emptying of the tummy later, I returned to find our appetizer and wine delivered. I sat down, Joe put a scallop on my plate, and I promptly began coughing. No, not coughing. Hacking. Gagging. Dying. So I left and went outside for a few minutes. Came back to the table, ate a tasty scallop. Told Joe to eat the rest of them, went back outside.
Finally I was able to regain control and enjoy the rest of the meal. Salad, entree (petite filet mignon), and dessert with no problems.
Then we came home and went to sleep before 10pm. My plague is still kicking my ass, obviously.
I hope you all felt some love yesterday. While I did far better than the last time we went out for a fancy meal, I still experienced a few freakout moments. I'm just grateful I was able to finally settle down enough to enjoy the evening. That's progress for me, which makes me warm and fuzzy.
So sorry for no Sunday confession but sometimes I just want to blog about my day and it's my blog so I can. Or I'll punch you in the face.