For those of you wondering, Mr. W and I had a really nice anniversary night. We enjoyed a lovely bottle of Shiraz, and dined on prosciutto-wrapped dates, caprese salad, more prosciutto with some cheese and bread, and yet another plate of 3 different cheese varieties with bread. It was so delicious I went into goldfish mode and ate until my stomach almost exploded and I died. Mr. W and cheese are my two favorite things in life.
Afterwards, we went back to his place, changed into our footie pajamas, climbed into our separate bunkbeds, read books to each other and fell asleep with chocolate chip cookies in our mouths. That’s exactly the way it happened, Mom.
Tomorrow we leave for St. Louis.
Yep, it’s the big meeting-of-the-family weekend. I’m taking gifts for all the female relatives and have been trying my best to muster up some adorable pheromones to emit in their presence so they all love me. Keep your fingers crossed.
Mr. W has given me a long list of things I can’t talk about to the fam, including politics, online dating, farts, religion, sex, global warming, mammogram helmets, blogging and poop. I’m also not supposed to call it “Missoura.”
Apparently his grandma, who is Greek, doesn’t speak English all that well, which leads me to think it could be a little bit funny to say things like, “Yaya, did you know that the first time Mr. W told me he loved me it was because I said I’d put his balls in my mouth?”
He didn’t find this as funny as I did.
Worst-case scenario, I’ll go there and accidentally start talking about hugging trees and raising taxes, and how I met Mr. W online and I don’t go to church. Then I’ll accidentally clog the toilet. Best-case, I’ll be able to uphold the façade of manners and charm and they’ll send us home with some sort of male dowry and a family-wide blessing.
I’ll let you know how it goes.