Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Decadent Birthday Celebration

When sirens whooped in the wee morning hours about a year ago, I thought I was dreaming. When I drove by the burnt out Ihop two blocks from my house, I realized my dream was a nightmare. Though we rarely went--okay, we went once--Eddie and I loved that Ihop. When I drove by the other day and saw it was finally open again, I decided that the perfect plan to celebrate Eddie's birthday was to dine in style. At Ihop.

That particular Ihop is the busiest restaurant in all the land. We got there right before the long line developed. I was surprised to see that the menu now has several healthy choices in addition to their 7 for 7 deal--7 entrees that cost 7 dollars each. Of course, I got neither the healthy choice nor the 7 dollar deal. If I go to Ihop, I'm gonna eat.

My version of splurgin is two harvest grain and nut blueberry pancakes and scrambled egg substitute. I drank water. I tasted a drop of strawberry syrup--way too sweet!--and a drop of the butter pecan--nothing special. I finished with a drop of traditional maple syrup. Ah, that's the stuff.

Eddie's idea of an Ihop meal is three pancakes and three scrambled eggs with a side of fries and a coke. Then he was a little down because he'd forgotten to order a side of toast. Really.

Still, neither of us go really all out and order those meals that Ihop calls entrees but are really desserts like the coffee cake cheese stuffed strudel thingies.

Stuffed beyond stuffed, like to the point where sitting down made me feel like throwing up because of all the pressure on my overly full stomach, like to the point where standing up make me feel like throwing up because I was moving. Basically, no activity was going to be painless. I had already planned a date for the movies, so I would have to deal with the throwy-uppy feeling from sitting down, which was better than the throwy-uppy feeling from standing.

We arrived at the theatre, which was a confusing theatre since the last time I was there, I got the tickets inside, but now that the weather had become cold, we had to stand outside to get the tickets from an outdoor box office. That makes sense. Eddie got a kick out of the signage.

After getting the tickets in the freezing cold and checking our gats at the door, we stopped inside so I could take off my gloves and figure out which theatre we had to go to. The box office cashier had ripped the tickets already. What's with that? That happens often, no ticket ripper inside but the box office all-in-one instead. I miss the ticket ripper.

As I figured out where to go, Eddie pondered the decision to get his usual Coke and peanut M&Ms, sans the usual popcorn. I looked at him with my You've got to be kidding face combined with an I'm going to throw up all over you face. He was like, What? I'm not full anymore. We'd been done with the meal for no less than an hour, and he was ready to eat again. I was still ready to vomit. He decided to forgo the snacks after seeing my face, possibly believing that I really wouldn't be able to look at food without getting sick. Plus, he was looking forward to my baking him a chocolate cake later on--this was his idea and I'd never said I'd do it, but he was hellbent on it happening.

So we settled in to watch Contraband with two people all the way in the front. Of course, right before it started, two more people sat in the row behind us. This elderly man was a commenter. He had something to say about most of what was going on during the movie. It was a fast-paced action flick, so his comments were always several steps behind. He also offered some bodily noises to the soundtrack, making for a variety of fun.

I did not bake a cake for Eddie's birthday. Instead, I baked brownies. He helped. I bought a mix. I cracked some eggs. I threw in some water and oil. I put it all into a pan and put it in the oven. I had no idea if it was done when the oven dingged. I slipped a knife in and it came out with brownie on it, so I put it back in the oven. The same thing happened when it dingged again. Eddie told me that it didn't matter. The brownies were done.

Okay then. We let them cool. Then? We had brownies for dinner. But only after I sang the birthday song and he blew out his candle.

They tasted pretty good. With his mouth full of moist brownie, he commented that he'd never seen me eat so much in one day before. With my mouth full of moist brownie, I replied, If I survive the night, I'm not eating for a week.

Happy Birthday, honey!

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