b Papa Dog's Blog: Our Sixth Wedding Anniversary, Part I (the Night Before)

Papa Dog's Blog

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Sunday, November 06, 2005

Our Sixth Wedding Anniversary, Part I (the Night Before)

Our anniversary was yesterday (the 5th of Nov.), but the observations commenced Friday night. For the first time since Baby Dog’s birth, we hired a babysitter so that we could have an evening out.* We dined at Adagia in Berkeley, with its big front doors like an old church (which for all I know the building may used to have been), high ceilings, white tablecloths. We were seated just adjacent to the grand fireplace, where a roaring fire was underway, warding off the arctic chill of this harsh Californian November.** I had butternut squash soup and steak with (to my surprise) pommes frites. It’s one of those restaurants where the menu requires a certain amount of translation, so I wasn’t at all sure I’d care for what I got. It was good, but if I’d probably have foregone the chive crème fraiche if I’d known it looked unsettlingly as though someone had spooged in my soup. Mama Dog had a salad and a lasagne that wasn’t at all what she expected. More often than not when dining out, she says she wishes she’d ordered what I got. Grass on the other side, I suppose. No wonder she always asks what I’m going to order. Surprisingly, it never changes what she gets.

By the time we had finished the entrée, our appointment with the box office was 15 minutes away. I’m always leery of being a problem customer because no matter how fancy the restaurant and how white the tablecloths, if you come of as an asshole you’re always in danger of having your dessert dicked.*** I had a moment or two to reflect before catching the eye of our waiter, Mr. Moustache, and I believe I came up with the precise diplomatic wording to avoid such an unseemly result. “We’d like to order dessert,” I said, giving my voice a little undercurrent of regret for the impossibility of such an eventuality, “but we have to be out of here in fifteen minutes. Can that be done?” Mr. Moustache smiled, all gracious efficiency. “I’m sure we can accommodate you.” Rather than wait until we were done, he brought the bill as I tucked into my chocolate cake and Mama Dog into her molasses confection. Even before we had finished our seemingly undicked afters, I had settled the bill and tipped generously. A mutually beneficial transaction all around.

The movie was The Ballad of Cable Hogue, playing at PFA as part of their Peckinpah series. Let us pause for a moment to reflect upon what a wonderful wife I have; not only is she willing to spend her anniversary evening watching a Peckinpah movie, it was her idea to do so! Greater love hath no woman! Granted, Cable Hogue is one of Peckinpah’s more light-hearted efforts, but she had no way of knowing that.**** And not only that, but after the movie, she effused about how much she’d enjoyed it! My gal! She’s even booked the babysitter again so she can finally see The Wild Bunch properly (i.e., on a big screen)!
*Minor parsing here: it’s the second time we’ve hired a babysitter, but the first time was so that Mama Dog could go to a job interview – the one that got her the job she has now – during the day. And we’ve had several evenings out over the last year and a half, with Halmonie minding Baby Dog. A couplefew times the Pirates have watched her during the day.
**Please detect sarcasm here.
***Between this and the spooge joke, I’m probably looking a bit obsessed, but really – do you want your dessert dicked?
****I should really do a post sometime on my theory that all of Peckinpah’s movies are actually love stories; they’re just usually sublimated homosexual love stories between men who kill for fun and profit.


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