Despite the Hero's best attempts to NOT keep his birthday plans for me a secret, he managed to not give them away, or at least he would have if the weather hadn't intervened.
"The road to the restaurant's closed," he announced. "We'll have to go someplace else."
It had been raining for two days, hard, and in a town that is below sea level, like ours, it is not unusual for such conditions to make it conducive to kayak down the middle of Main Street.
We debated several nutritious alternatives to the restaurant the Hero had picked out, including staying home and having pancakes. We finally chose a nearby restaurant so we wouldn't have to drive too far in the downpour. To get there we had to pass a bakery, and although it did briefly cross our minds to stop in -- it's open late on Wednesdays; shouldn't we help make it worth the employees' while to be there? -- we continued on to an establishment with actual food.
Plus, we had cupcakes waiting at home.
At the restaurant we were seated at a table in the "Intestinal Surgery Discussion" section. The individuals behind us talked at some length, and without regard to other patrons' appetites, about their respective experiences with diverticulitis and resulting surgeries. "But if it doesn't work," one of them warned, "they may have to do another surgery."
"What looks good to you?" the Hero asked over his menu.
"Intestines," I said absentmindedly. "Actually, I'm not so hungry anymore." Even the prospective cupcakes were beginning to lose their shine.
But the Intestinal Surgery Discussion eventually moved on, our appetites returned, our meals were consumed, and the prospective cupcakes shone a little brighter.
Did I mention that there were cupcakes at home?
And that there were leftover Oreos that didn't make it into the cupcakes? SOMEONE had to eat those.
So we did. And we didn't think of diverticulitis. Not even once.
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