Day 227

Me to Jules: “What did you do this weekend?”

Jon’s parents watchedthe boys while we celebrated our 8^th anniversary in Montreal.

Jules: “We ate ice cream before our dinner.”

Jon, with a smirk: “Really?”

Jules: “Yes. It was Grandma’s idea. Papa said we neededreeaaal food but Grandma wanted to get us ice cream.”

Me, about to crack up: “Oh. So you and Grandma were sort ofon a team?” (“Yes.”) “What else did you do?”

Jules: “We had vanilla cookies. And we had gummies shapedlike men.”

Me: “Besides food, what did you do?”

Jules: “We went to the dog park. Grandma dropped her applethere. She dropped it by a bench.”

For the record, I know that they also went to the playgroundtwice—and spent almost the entire day at ShelburneMuseum’s Circus-palooza. And no doubt, Grandma and Papa read dozens ofbooks, pitched lots of baseballs and built loads of Lego structures. They werein good hands.

And Jon and I had a fantastic time - in part because we were armed with great recommendations. We stayed at Auberge Les Bon Matins, a colorful B&B downtown. My friend Dan had recommended the place last November but it had been booked. This time, we were luckier: there was room in the inn. Friday night, we arrived, settled in and walked to get some late-night sushi at Sho-Dan (thanks, Nicole!) 

Like Jules, Jon and I had a weekend that basically revolved around food. After kicking off Saturday with a run up run/walk up, run down Mont Royal, we had eggs and waffles and about a pot's worth of coffee back at the Inn. Then we hopped on the Metro to the Jean Talon market... after browsing the colorful stalls - each one seeming to outdo the last - we meandered over to over to Alep, a Syrian restaurant that came highly recommended by Bob, for lunch. Alep was closed. We spent a few minutes in a cute boutique and played with a handsome Calico cat. 

Then we hoofed it to St. Hubert (what appeared to be a garment district) for the great Cuban fare that Scott told us about. The sign on Caya Coco's door said to hang tight... they'd be right back in 15 minutes. We were hungry. And thirsty - so ran across the street to ShiShi Desserts for an appetizer: lemonade and mini cupcakes. Which turned out to be a good thing, as the super sweet owner told us that the Cuban resto-bar had become a full-time hookah lounge. Had we not ventured down for rice and beans, we would missed out on our midday Dulce Le Leche and Passion Fruit cakes. (Jules wasn't the only one savoring dessert before meals.)

The ShiShi baker recommend that we head a couple of blocks over to see whether Tapeo, a hot newish tapas bar might be open. Alas, it was not. But it looked awesome. Def on the list for next time. 

Now famished, we went back to the market and stopped for the first food we encountered. It was a taqueria and I'm not sure I'd recommend it. More browsing the market, then we jumped back on the metro to St. Catherine, did too much shopping and stopped to refuel with coffee Americanos. 

For dinner, Reinhold and Pam recommended L'Auberge Saint-Gabriel. I can't even describe how amazing it was - the food, the art, the service, the dental-floss dispenser in the restrooms - I highly suggest checking it out for yourself. Post-supper, we hit the Port for the fireworks. (Left early, gawked at the awesomeness that is Notre Dame... and marveled at the incredible, electric energy of Montreal.) 

Thanks, all, who helped make this such a fab weekend! 

Day 224

This box was sitting on our doorstep when I got home. 

The label read as follows:

Apparently, Jon made some sort of football bet with his friend Derrick. Derrick apparently lost and had to send us some pizzas. Derrick... the guy who, when I Jon and I met 13 years ago, listened to Jon's stories of our "dates" and informed him that I indeed would become Jon's actual girlfriend. That perhaps I was even "the one." Derrick told him all of this before he met me. And, actually, I never spent all that much time with Derrick. 

But I  love Derrick -- Derrick, the structural engineer whose undergrad degree is in English. Derrick, who went on to receive his MBA (I think). He's got a case of the "liberal arts" as much as I do and a has this witty way that always makes me smile. (I love that all family gifts come to the "Micco Household," despite the fact that I'm the only Micco here.)

Though Jon keeps in touch with Derrick regularly, I've seen him only twice and talked only about more 3 times in the last decade. So. Can he still be one of my favorite people? One could argue that he is, after all, partly responsible for prompting the establishment of the "Micco Household." 

Day 222

I'd like to share this little modern love story:

Girl walks into a bar. In Queens. ("Elvis" is performing, collecting money for the children. In a year or so, it will be revealed that there were no children. The philanthropic Elvis is a fake and a scam.)

Girl hits on Boy. 

Flirting and beer-drinking ensue. Numbers are exchanged. 

A strange courtship begins. Girl and Boy go for runs through Forest Hills, meet up at the bar and the bowling alley. Their contact is sporadic. Boy continually insists he is moving to Spain. To build bridges.

After a few months, girl moves across a bridge, to Manhattan. 

Shortly thereafter, Boy shows up at Girl's door, insisting that they do dinner. (Note: In their three-month, sporadic "relationship," Girl and Boy have never shared a meal.) Girl, now working at a ridiculously crazy start-up that has her toiling away 19 hours a day in a 3 square-foot space, obliges. They dine outside at a laid-back upper Upper East Side establishment. She is wearing stained khakis.

A more traditional dating relationship ensues. There are dinners, movies and museum visits. There are many trips across the bridge. Life is good. 

Fast forward 2 years. Boy invites Girl to move to Colorado with him. Girl says likes her life in NYC publishing. 

Boy moves to California to live on the beach with Boy's younger friend. Girl is pissed. 

~To protect the innocent, the next part of this story will be summarized to this: For awhile they break up. But still visit and talk. It's all very dysfunctional. However, to deal with this drama, Girl trains for a Marathon with Team in Training, at the encouragement of Gabby Studenmund. She raises more than $5,000 for leukemia and lymphoma research and runs 26.2 miles in London. During this adventure, she meets amazing people, including Eliana Agudelo. ~

Boy decides to move back East to be with Girl (and near his family). They agree that Vermont sounds like a nice place to live.

Girl lands a fellowship in the nutrition department at UVM. Girl moves to Vermont with her cat Charlie  (may he RIP...)

Boy gets an engineering gig in Vermont.

Girl flies out West. Girl, Boy and all of Boy's belongings, including an awkwardly shaped chair procured in South Africa, spend 6 days driving across Canada in a Subaru Impreza. 

One year later, Girl and Boy buy their first home.

Then, Girl and Boy adopt Dempsey.

The next summer, Boy's BFF proposes to his girlfriend. Then Boy's other BFF proposes to his girlfriend. Weeks later, Boy proposes to Girl. (Sorry, Boy, Girl is a Journalist. Journalists state the facts.)

They plan a big wedding for October 9, 2004 (Happy Birthday, Deb Baer!). They send out Save the Dates, then ditch this plan and reschedule a teeny tiny ceremony atop Mt. Philo for July 17, 2004. Girl's mom says that sounds just fine to her - whatever makes Girl happy - but don't be surprised if people think that Girl is pregnant.

Girl is not pregnant. 

This happens:

Lots of excellent things occur: new nephews and another niece, parties round the fire pit, dancing in cabarets, another marathon, trips, hikes, house dormers, exciting new jobs, softball games, etc. (And some bad ones too: Chuck dies.)

Girl and Boy adopt two kitty sisters.

Girl gets pregnant for real. Thirty-five-and-a-half weeks later, this guy is born.

Life really gets fun. 

And then girl gets knocked up again... and 40 weeks later, this guy is born. Life really gets crazy, which is as it remains today, exactly eight years to the day that this photo was snapped by HT. 

Which - really - is just how the Girl likes it.