Martinis these days don't taste much like martinis. They taste like Kool Aid. This means my wife will drink them.
I like it when she has a martini.
My wife is virtually a teetotaler. This means her blood is like spring water. This means four sips from a martini glass and she begins to giggle. In fact, she even finds me slightly amusing at these times.
For example, last night we were celebrating Deb's birthday at a nice restaurant. She ordered a drink before dinner. I may have been imagining things but half-way through her martini Deb was giving me a few cues. Cues that led me to believe whatever was in her glass was gently swirling around in her head.
This made me smile.
Now, I'm not saying I prefer my wife drunk. But it was such a beautiful evening with such delightful company that mild decadence seemed like the only fitting way to honor the occasion.
She's such a lovely girl. I'm glad the stars came out for her birthday. There's was even a blimp that floated over the isthmus. We could see it from our table.
Deb doesn't know I arranged it.
Yes. I'm lying. But even without a few sips from a martini, a HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEBBIE! blinking in huge letters on the side of blimp that would have been cool.
Maybe next year.
This year she'll have to settle for 10 pt. text on a blog post.
Happy birthday, honey.