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August 7, 2009

WAHD and I went out to dinner ~alone~ for the first time in something like two months. For us, date night feels like a glistening, transient oasis in a vast 18-year-long desert. We enjoyed four hours to ourselves while Blur enjoyed an evening with his beloved babysitter (she does things like bring him Elmo kites and washable finger paints; in return, he worships her).

Now I am stuffed, and my throat hurts because I ate a load of food that exacerbates my acid reflux. It was good, though, and totally worth it. I had tortilla soup; a spicy seafood salsa made with shrimp, scallops, avocado, tomatoes, and tequila; part of WAHD’s delicious red snapper; a margarita; a vanilla latte with whipped cream and graham cracker crumbs on top; and a Diet Dr. Pepper (who brainwashed me into thinking that artificial sweetener negates calories? And yet somehow I seem to believe it…) I offer no apologies, not even for the whipped cream.

ETA, two hours later: Never mind. I do offer apologies, namely to my esophagus. I’m sorry, esophagus, for turning you into a pipe of burning, prickly pain. This will not happen again. No more spicy food, I promise. No more whipped cream. Decidedly less alcohol. Tomorrow I will go back to eating the (boring) food you like, such as apples, yogurt, and sprouted grain bread.

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