Chas wore this dress of mine yesterday. I had to roll it about six times until it was short enough for him to just barely clear the ground in, and he just barely cleared the ground all over the garden as he trampled the runner bean seedlings and bulldozed through the birdbath. Finally, he returned inside with a little wicker basket and a tiny Schleich lamb at the bottom of the basket, declaring his arrival with a wet pattering across the tile floor and up onto Damon’s chest, where he soon fell asleep.
We went out on date last night. This is not something we do often, but my parents were in town and they decided to relieve us. So, after a quick bite and a paint lesson from my dad:
We left. We drove as fast as we could to make the 7 o’clock reservation. It was still hot outside, and my dress stuck to my legs in the car while I waited to the air conditioning ot kick in. Summer is just getting comfortable; you could see it in the smile of a man in his convertible, sunglasses reflecting the red light: summer is wedging itself back in the seat of the rocker, next to a side table with sweet iced tea and a paperback memoir.
Sunset raked over white table linens at the restaurant. Wine and hands, a sublime filet and the finest long grain rice from Texas; I felt ten years younger immersed in the quiet of our childless space. I mentioned that the restaurant reminded me of the bistro in Mill Valley, the one with the gorgeous hostess, but I realized that the similarity lay not in the setting but the absence of stress. Children have been the bane of our dining experiences. No matter how charming it is when they politely request macaroni and cheese, each good deed is met with an equally annoying faux pas: say, a fork thrown across the table and barely skewering the woman at the table behind me.
We kill 45 minutes atop a parking garage.
And then eat molten chocolate cake a la mode with pints of ale at the drafthouse theater.
My head is heavy and tipping off my shoulders on the winding road home, smiling and satiated but sleepy.
Sounds like you had a wonderful time. I love the photo of Chas asleep on Damon’s chest. You get great b&w with your camera.
beautiful pictures. as usual!
reading about your date is almost as good as going on one. well. you know what i mean. i can’t help but wonder if we’ll ever get there.
As usual, your photos are sensational– but your description of the dinner– sublime.
Mill Valley is one of our favorite places–
Hey Steph, I’m so glad you guys were able to go out Saturday night. You deserved it!
Your sister-in-law,
Amy
Bowled over by your writing in this post. Sigh. You make me feel like a poser for even attempting something other than a “I did this then this post.” Honestly, girl.
Any meal I eat without Bea is like a mini vacation – so refreshing!
Also very jealous of your evening out — it sounds fantastic and sounds like you both needed and enjoyed it very much. Hooray for willing grandparents!
You had some gorgeous lines in here: how the sunset raked the table linens, and the way summer is wedging in. So beautiful. And ahhh, for just a minute I felt myself unwinding, as though I too were stress free. What a great night. Esp. killing time atop a parking garage. SO GOOD.
Steph, your photos and writing are an inspiration.
I am lucky enough to live in MV and it makes me oddly beaming happy to think of you here. I believe I know the exact restaurant you speak of and also, more importantly, that delicious feeling one gets in the cracks of free time away from our most cherished bebes…
What a fabulous date night you’ve described. I may be heading over to Mill Valley next month (Sweetwater!)…if I do, I’ll think of you… 😉
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