So I learned two definitions last night on my date with Hubby...
1. The definition of disappointment.
2. The defintion of pure joy.
Let's start with the disappointment. We went to a local favorite clothing store to look for my husband some jeans. His have, well, seen many, many better days, and it was time to stop showing up at church with grass stains. They were thankfully having a sale, so we ended up getting him two pair, one of which the clerk discounted for us just because. How nice!
While we were in line to check out, I saw a pair of red satiny, scalloped-edge high heels on a display. My jaw dropped, and like a suicidal moth to flame, I flew to their side. Hubby found me there, literally stroking them like a puppy. Then he said the magic words. "Why don't you get them? You deserve them. You've got several speaking events coming up, and a book signing. Get 'em, baby!!"
My heart swelled. The most adorable red shoes, EVER, and all mine. Happiness at its finest form...
Until I realized they only had a medium and extra large pair. I needed a large. (size 8-9)
I wanted to cry. I actually considered, strongly, buying the too-small pair and just hobbling. I really did. That's how cute they were. Then logic, and Hubby, vetoed that idea.
Disappointment. In its truest form. Sigh. But, Hubby says I can keep on the lookout for an equally cute pair, and buy them when I find them. Sigh.
We enjoyed our dinner date, using a gift card to a nice Italian restaurant we obtained at Christmas. I'm not a fan of Italian desserts - don't really like raspberry cheesecake (other cheesecakes are good, just don't love the raspberry part) or tiramisu, etc. So we drove around thinking of someplace to go. I thought about Strawn's, a local diner, which has AMAZING pie that I rarely get to eat. These pies have even been featured three times in the past decade in Southern Living Magazine - not bad for our city! I knew the diner closed early, but thankfully we got there 20 minutes before quitting time.
We sat down and ordered cokes and my pie. Hubby said he didn't need any. I argued, hating to eat dessert alone. Back and forth, until he convinced the waitress, no, he was fine, no pie. So I tried not to feel like a fat kid planning to eat pie alone, until suddenly the waitress came by with my slice - and his! She said his piece was free, and he should enjoy it. haha! So he ate most of it and I helped him finish the crust. =)
Here's a pie of their actual pie as seen in the magazine.
So we were getting ready to leave, me in a happy state of pie-bliss that only Strawn's can bring, when here comes the manager.
It happened in slow motion, as most things do in a pie-bliss state...he slides a giant white box on the table in front of us and says, in slow motion "Heeeereee......strawberrrrry.........we were going to throw it away anyway at closing......"
For the second time that night, my jaw dropped, and I lovingly stroked an inanimate object.
An entire pie. Free.
Now if I can just find those shoes......