21 Years Yesterday

This shot was taken while we were waiting for Stephen to make his now-famous Greek meal.

Last night we dressed up, took pictures, went out to dinner at the Union Hotel, then came home.

I haven't gotten around to editing the dressy pictures, and Paul hates to be photographed, so he always looks like he doesn't want to be doing whatever it is the picture is about, in this case, celebrating our marriage. Although, in all honesty, 2007 was a very difficult year for us, and we both agreed last night that '08 has got to be better. I was thinking I'm not superstitious, but you know what they say about the 7-year itch in marriage. Well, every multiple of 7 in our marital history has been a downer. The other ones were much better.

But what I've done is resolve to commit to changing, by God's grace, only myself, my actions and reactions. It seems like an impossibility sometimes, but I can change, I just know it. I have faith, we are both committed believers, and we're staying true to our marriage vows, for better or for worse being the hardest. That and submitting to him when I disagree. Or in his case, loving me as Christ loves the church. We both admit the bar is impossibly high without grace.

We went out to dinner at a place called the Union Hotel. It was built on the Susquehanna River in Port Deposit, Maryland, circa 1783. An old log cabin with a gourmet restaurant on one level and a biker tavern on the lower, it had come highly recommended to us. (by diners, not bikers).

I was not at all disappointed, but Paul was. Our appetizer was crab-stuffed mushrooms. Delicious, no complaints. The bread was fairly tasty, though a bit overdone, and Paul didn't care for the "weird butters" of honey maple and raspberry. My entree was a seafood special of jumbo lump crabcakes, butterfly shrimp, and scallops. Absolutely wonderful, succulent, barely short of perfect. He got the bourbon marinated flank steak, expecting something sweet like a Friday's steak, but it was, in his words "too vinegary." My salad was just okay. The cherry tomato was as big as a golf ball and almost as hard. I thought that if I didn't slice into it just right, it'd go boing/swoosh/splat right onto Paul's tie, but it didn't. Score one for my ability to cut a golf ball with a butter knife. Our table was wobbly in both directions. Made of original planks, there was a one-inch gap right down the center. I made sure I kept my napkin fully stretched across my lap lest I spill my chablis on my new dress. Our waitress was probably what was most disappointing. First when we got there, she and the other one kept going back and forth over whose turn it was to take a table. Come on, ,ladies, not here, I wanted to say. The longer you fuss, the smaller your tip. If you want a nice tip, treat us like you want us to be here, and differ on that point in that kitchen. They wear old-fashioned dresses and bonnets in keeping with the history, but Paul remarked to me, "they're just plain ugly." That says a lot. He almost never comments on anyone's outfit, ever--even mine when I think I look especially good--he is just not one to notice, or comment if he does. So for him to say an outfit's ugly, well, it oughta be on What Not to Wear. So our waitress was very Balmer, hon. "Yous enjoyed your meals?" Yes, weeees did, I wanted to say. But I was polite: "We did, thanks. It was a nice way to celebrate our 21st anniversary." She said, "Yous should of told me. I woulda brought yous a free dessert of the Union cake." It is their signature dish. Well, it tastes like yellow cake with Jiffy vanilla pudding, and is topped with whipped cream and some walnuts just floppped on top. (We got it to go, since we had not saved room for it and didn't think about a freebie dessert for the occasion.) ANyway, if that's their signature dish, they ought to retake penmanship. But it was okay for a free ten o'clock sweet treat.

All in all, this date was probably very symbolic date of our 21st year. Okay, but leaves much more to be desired. So here's to '08. Yous can bet it'll be better than this past year, hon.