we celebrated, belatedly, our 2 year anniversary last night. there's this french restaurant that we go to that has to be one of the strangest places in middle america. the food is awesome, the service is top-notch, and the combination of the two makes you feel like you're really something special. however, the decor is questionable. the walls are decorated with a whole bunch of crazy crap, and the salt shakers perplex me every time. they're big, multi-colored plastic affairs that belong in some hole-in-the-wall pizza place run by former preschool teachers- not an expensive 'bistro' where the waiters know more than is humanly possible about french wines and the pronunciation of bizarre french dishes. anyhow, the place is absolutely wonderful, but i always have to wonder about the huge poster of marilyn monroe on the opposite wall. was she big in france? do the french consider marilyn especially fancy? what would she have thought about the salt shakers?

we enjoyed our meal, thoroughly, both of us telling the maitre'd that everything was exceptional "as always." first chris told the guy this while i was lingering at the table with my pile of winter gear, and then i walked up and told him the exact same thing. we probably looked like a bunch of assholes who had been rehearsing at the table.

onto the whirlpool suite in beautiful downtown palatine, where the town slogan is: "you should see the nicer towns that surround us!" the free suite was not quite as posh as we had hoped, but bearers of gift certificates can not be choosey. i filled the tub up with water so hot that i quickly cooked up like a lobster in a pot, calling out to my honey, "come on in, the water's excruciating!" i have never seen chris get into a tub before; it was both hysterical and disturbing. we sat there with the jets going full blast, drinking from our champagne glasses and commenting on how ridiculous the whole thing was, and eventually we had to get out due to the fact that our body temperatures had reached 234 degrees farenheit.

the rest of the evening was just lovely, and this morning we came home to another newspaper waiting at our front door. a few weeks ago, i made the mistake of donating money to a charity that would, in return, give me a subscription to the local paper. now the whole apartment is more of a fire hazard than usual, dry newspaper crumpled up at every which corner. who subscribes to newspapers these days, anyhow? with the advent of the ever-popular internet, who subscribes to anything?

beats me.