For our final anniversary date, which occurred on our actual anniversary, I took you on a surprise picnic at the beach.
The night before, as we were sitting on the couch, I (seemingly randomly) declared: “I’m going to bake a quiche.” I thought you would be a bit suspicious about my declaration, especially since our anniversary was the next day and since I’d never baked a quiche nor expressed any desire to. But you weren’t. You said okay and went back to what you were doing. Maybe that’s because I frequently make strong declarations about random things: “I’m going to run a half marathon this fall.” “Would you like a pie? I’ll go make one.” “I’m going to take up swimming.” “Let’s travel around Europe when I’m done with school.” “I’m going to fly planes for a living.” I guess not all of my declarations become a reality. I did bake that quiche, though. Here it is, eggs, bell peppers, feta, cheddar, garlic and all:
To be honest, I don’t know that it’s a quiche. It could be a frittata or it could just be baked eggs with random stuff thrown in. I really don’t know what qualifies something as one or the other. But let’s call it a quiche—it tasted so great, I think it deserves a fancy French name.
(By the way, I’ve wanted to make you a quiche (i.e., the kind of thing of which the thing pictured above is an instance) for about six months. I’m not sure why. I just had it stuck in my mind to make you one and to eat it with you at the beach.)
But enough of that delectable dish I somewhat arbitrarily designated a quiche. Let’s get back to the date. On the day of our anniversary, I put all of our picnic items together and sneaked them over to our friends’ house. They agreed to set up the picnic for us so that we would “stumble” upon it as we walked on the beach.
When I came back, you asked for some of the quiche. I gave you the small portion of it that was left. “You ate the entire thing!?” you asked. I simply shrugged my shoulders in response. When you were done eating, we dropped our kids off with some friends and drove to Goleta Beach. We started on our walk and soon came upon the picnic lunch.
“Hungry?” I asked you as I motioned to the picnic. “This is for us!? How did you do that!?” you said as you jumped to hug me. (With all the crazy surprises I’ve done through 365, I think you now consider me the David Blaine of romance.) After taking about 1,000 pictures of our lunch, we started eating. All the while, people on the beach were stealing glances of us, perhaps wondering what was taking place.
After lunch, we took a walk on the pier. We talked about family life, our marriage, and the possibility of adopting children, and at one point, I ran through these resting pigeons:
Our three dates proved invaluable, since they provided us with some much-needed time together and without our children (whom we love dearly). Here are some more pictures of our picnic: