For about the past twenty five years, my Mom has phoned me on July 12th to remind me it is our wedding anniversary. Why? Well, I must confess something very embarrassing to you, Dear Reader: for the first five years of our marriage we actually celebrated our wedding anniversary on the wrong date.

Let me set the scene here. We had been together for about six years. DT’s career was just beginning, but we suddenly learned, on a Wednesday, he was being transferred to The Philippines, the next Sunday. We were not married. I could not get a visa to live in The Philippines unless we were married.

Basically, we had to get married. Quickly.

This photo was taken the night before we were married. How is it
even legal that people this young (24 years old) can get married?

So move ahead five years. We now have a four year old and I am on the phone with my Mom and she asks what was going on, and I tell her we have a babysitter coming as DT and I are going out for our anniversary. Mom wants to know why we are going out for our anniversary on June 14th when our anniversary is July 12th. What? It is? I actually go check and she is right. This is what happens when you decide to get married on Wednesday, get married on Saturday, move to Manila on Sunday and have a baby 13 months later. Things get confused.

Anyway… now that My Mother has passed away, it is up to us to remember our wedding anniversary.

The weather was nice today – which means we didn’t need the air conditioner and we didn’t need the furnace. (Rare day in Oregon.)

We had a visitor this morning.

She wanted to borrow a Q-Tip.

We each went for long runs before heading out to a nearby local park to enjoy a picnic in the sunshine.

Lovely sunshine. Lovely Husband. Lovely champagne. Lovely Grand Dawg.

Lovely.

Lemon-Artichoke Chicken Salad. I promise to post the recipe this week.

DT learned that the thirty year wedding anniversary is the “pearl” anniversary. I already have a lovely strand of pearls. Pearl earrings. Pearl ring. I’m set for pearls. So, he decided to take me to dinner in Portland’s Pearl District. (I have no idea why this hip new area of downtown is called “The Pearl”. For years the area was neglected, home to empty warehouses and closed businesses. Times change. Urban renewal happens. These days, you can buy a loft for a million dollars in The Pearl district and walk to trendy shops, dine in gourmet restaurants and stroll through beautiful town squares.)

Jamison Square in the Pearl District of Portland, Oregon

Dave chose Fenouil to celebrate the start of our 31st year of marriage. Fenouil (French for fennel) is an “urban French bistro”. Presentation is everything at this chic spot.

I’ve never seen a bistro like this is France.

For a starter, DT ordered Yukon Gold Potato Vichyssoise – leek salad, smoked salmon roe and fingerling potato chips with the chilled potato soup poured around. Yummy.

I tried the Artichoke Salad. Fresh mozzarella, taggiasca olive tapenade and marinated artichoke hearts with a little drizzle of 20 year balsamic – garnished with frisee. Too pretty to eat?

No.

And can anyone explain why the two of us can’t enter a French restaurant without one of us (or both or us) ordering steak frites? Tonight, it was both. We couldn’t help it – the frites were fried in duck fat.

A perfect day with the Best Husband Ever.

Until my next update, I remain, your married correspondent.

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