Anniversary Number Two

Since I know you're all dying to hear about how our fabulous anniversary plans went, I'll take you on a photo tour of our romantic evening. First, Tim showed up with flowers.

A dozen roses really go a long way. Well, they do when your cat doesn't spend his non-napping hours trying to eat them. I understand his attraction to shiny things and unattended meals, but roses? Anyway, back to the subject at hand. I'd stopped by the salon to have my hair done, since I left all of my styling tools in Provo (oops!). Unfortunately, after the walk back to the apartment all of the curls had fallen out. So much for my Victoria's Secret model hair—the only part of a VS model I would dare attempt to imitate. Once I'd completed throwing the rest of myself together, I looked something like the photo below.

I'd had to actually remove my nail polish while my hair was being done, since the two-dollar bottle I'd purchased the day before turned out to be almost entirely worthless: it went on clumpy, dried too quickly, and chipped within a few hours. I didn't even have time to replace it with the bottle of trusty Sally Hansen I'd purchased on my way home.

After our hurried departure, we had to pay $12 for parking for the evening! Twelve American dollars! Then we had to find the extremely well-hidden entrance to the restaurant. When we found it, however, we were not disappointed. Suddenly we were transported to a quiet Summer evening in a French bistro far away from the noise of city life. After a divine soupe à l'oignon, our waiter consented to take our picture.

I had to keep stealing Tim's frites since they were so delicious I told him I'd have to leave him in order to marry them. This confession elicited the following mental picture for both of us:


Cue newspaper montage


Woman Kills and Eats Husband on Wedding Night

Denver, CO—Friday night a young woman was caught in the act of consuming the fried remains of her second husband, whom she had married just that afternoon. Since this gruesome end to a very short love affair cannot exactly be called cannibalism, the woman was allowed to go free. When asked for an explanation of her conduct, she had no comment, but her eulogy at Saturday's quickly planned funeral gave friends and family some insight into her feelings: "Though my beloved husband died last night, he has not really passed away. He remains in all of us. At least in me. For the next few hours."


With the best wishes of the restaurant staff, and a promise of free desserts the next time we visit, we left the restaurant for a pedicab ride up the street to an evening at the theater. No photography was allowed inside at all, so you'll have to live with my description of the event. The theater was huge (and packed, from what we could see) and we had wonderful seats. Sweeney Todd, however, was a disappointment. The singing was amazing, but the show was inappropriate. The really shocking part was that there were kids behind us! I mean, even we knew that it was a bloody show. Also, I think I have hearing damage from the high-pitched squeals that accompanied each murder. I'll be doing a bit more research next time I want to go to a show.

On our long walk back to the very expensive parking lot, the most expensive shoes I have ever purchased were badly damaged when one of the spike heels wedged itself stubbornly into a crack in the sidewalk. I suppose people who pay that much for shoes don't walk too much! I felt like Cinderella falling apart on her way home from the ball, so we hurried to the car before it could turn into a pumpkin—which would have been much harder to remove from that dear parking spot.