A month or so ago, I posted the annual holiday letter my boss sends every year to family and friends. This year’s is fabulous, too, and with his permission, I’m posting it here.  I’ve removed any identifying details and edited it for content, but I’ve left his primary message intact.  Enjoy. 

I always admired the late Reverend Peter Gomes, whose messages from the pulpit in Harvard’s Memorial Church stirred a lot of souls – especially the memorial services he offered at each of the reunions we attended. Years ago I got to introduce Peter at a church fundraising dinner.  (When he referred to me as “Brother” during his remarks, this mid-western hayseed felt like he had made it to the big time!) Recently, we received a flyer announcing an auction of the contents of Peter’s homes. This flyer did what death usually does – reminded me of the value of life. On page 283 of The Good Life, Reverend Gomes wrote: “The good life is not to be found wrapped up and waiting for us like the Dead Sea Scrolls or some ancient artifacts from a culture that once flourished but is now long gone. Not at all. The good life, whose object, like that of hope, is a future good….enables us to live now that which we seek.” Living now that which we seek makes so much sense. Why do we think that real joy is the goal, rather than a daily choice? I am sure Peter left behind some wonderful items for auction, but the beauty of those antiques can’t compete with the messages of love and good-heartedness he left behind.

Peter also wrote and spoke about gratitude – which has been mentioned in numerous Holiday Letters over the years. Those of us who write these annual missives predictably express gratitude for our family and friends, and for the many blessings we have been given. For some reason, though, I have resisted practicing gratitude formally by following the recommended rituals. That may seem a little odd in the face of overwhelming evidence that keeping a so-called ‘Gratitude Journal’ makes us happier. Yet, I have not been able to discipline myself to do that, or anything else that is recommended by those who have studied the phenomenon.

One writer suggested that we should cultivate gratitude by taking a moment during each meal to tell those gathered what we are thankful for – not just during the Thanksgiving meal, but always. (It could lead to surprises, as I remember one Thanksgiving dinner at which a young Reid said he was thankful for Oprah and Wheel of Fortune.)  Maybe we will try this one in ’12.

Specifically, this year we are grateful that Paige is actually a fabulous teenager—the kind you can only hope for. (Can you believe she is driving?) We are thankful that Craig continues to pursue his passion of broadcasting baseball, and that he is enjoying all that Florida has to offer. We are grateful that Reid has continued to advance in his development; and we are grateful for the way Karen and I still have fun in all that we do together.

As some of you know from years of reading about Reid, he lives ‘in the moment’ with great joy. “Live now that which we seek…”  So, I thought I would share with you a poem I wrote about Reid several years ago:

There is something about Reid
that makes us smile
when he finds joy in the simplest things.

There is something about Reid
that makes him giggle,
seeing a moon, a sun, or a mouse.

There is something about Reid
that makes us happy
in the way his sweet heart sings.

There is something about Reid
that is so sincere when he invites
strangers for “supper me house?”

There is something about Reid
that gives us joy
as he asks for his favorite shows.

There is something about Reid
that touches souls
with the merriment our lives don’t allow.

There is something about Reid
that impresses us all
when we discover what he really knows.

There is something about Reid
that changes our hearts
when he says “me happy now.”

After Craig’s terrific writing last year, many of you are probably a little disappointed to see me back in the game. And I had truly thought I was retired. But when your brother comes through major brain surgery safely and successfully, you feel compelled to write a little bit more about gratitude—and miracles.  Those of you who have read The Secret know that there is great power in our thoughts. When it was discovered that Rick had a tumor, hundreds of people openly offered “thoughts and prayers.” Relatives, friends, contacts on Facebook and Linkedin, co-workers at my firm, and the parishioners at our church all offered “thoughts and prayers.” (Even a stranger I chatted with in Denver added Rick to his prayer list…) Don’t ever doubt the power of thoughts and prayers. There is no doubt in my mind that the team of surgeons had an extra pair of divine hands in the operating room. The joy we feel knowing that Rick will be fine is indescribable. I look forward to playing lots of golf with him in the years to come.

Amidst all of this, I continue to be moved by remarks made by the Headmaster of (children’s school) at a Thanksgiving assembly over a year ago.  Loosely interpreted, he reminded us that we should be thankful for sadness, because it magnifies our happiness. We should be thankful for loneliness, as it gives us a greater appreciation for connection. And we can celebrate failure, for without it we would know less success. Reverend Gomes said we could only know true joy, if we knew suffering. Indeed, life is rich in joy and sorrow, in achievement and disappointment, in gain and loss. We are so very thankful to be on this journey with such supportive friends and family, as well as those unnamed Angels that move in and out of our lives. May each of us be an Angel for someone every day.

I would like to share a quote from The Power (sequel to The Secret): “So how do you fall in love with life? The same way you fall in love with another person—you adore everything about them! You fall in love with another person by seeing only love, hearing only love, speaking only love, and by feeling love with all your heart!  And that is exactly how you use the ultimate power of love in love with life.”  Now, combine this thinking with a quote from Albert Einstein: “Imagination is everything. It is the preview of life’s coming attractions.” We have unlimited potential. Turn your imagination loose. Decide what you want….believe you can have it, believe you deserve it, believe it’s possible for you, and have an extraordinary holiday season.

A note from the daughter: 

Even though Dad is “out of retirement” from writing the holiday letter, he asked mom and me (Paige) to add our thoughts this year. Dad has asked me several times to write the holiday letter, saying it would be a great opportunity, but I never took him up on the offer. I was always a little nervous about jumping into something that he has done for so many years, and for a piece of writing about which a lot of people openly express joy upon reading. I certainly didn’t feel prepared to step into those shoes. My other issue was that I never felt like I had anything truly inspiring to share. This is probably the first year that I have actually been able to somewhat connect myself to the things Dad has to say in the letter.

After reading The Secret, Dad did not want to keep the things he had learned to himself. Mom and I listened to him describe the messages and different ways he thought it could really change a person’s life. However, keep in mind that I live under the same roof as him, so our whole family is subject to these eye-opening things Dad has to say throughout the whole year—not just in this letter. And I do admit that I didn’t give it much thought the first time Dad talked about it. Then one day during wellness week, which is my school’s version of drug and alcohol awareness and prevention, the guest speaker suddenly asked if we had ever learned about the power of thought. Many in the room were clueless to the idea, but I knew what he was talking about. He went on to describe a time when he was so nervous about a public speaking event, that he envisioned himself doing the presentation and having it be a huge success, and by the time he got up on stage, he wasn’t a bit nervous and did a great job.

So maybe this crazy idea that Dad had shared with us was something bigger then I realized; maybe it was really possible too. All I know is if a 16 year old daughter can be inspired by an idea so grand and unimaginable, it could truly be life changing after all.

I know my boss has his cranky times or when he feel less than stellar (or feels not in the slightest bit like being politically correct or stroking yet another ego), but in general he exudes joy and confidence and happiness.  I’ve never worked for someone like him, which in a way makes me nervous because I don’t know how to deal with someone who appears to open and truly interested in helping his team members succeed.  I enjoyed his letter this year as it personally spoke to me (again!).  I myself have experienced first-hand the healing and inspiring power that love has over us, and I know that the love I’ve given out this year has made a difference to many different people (including one in particular). 

I’m a little bit in love with my boss. 

No, not THAT kind of love.  But back when I was looking for jobs, and struggling to process the idea of working INSIDE a law firm instead of consulting for one, I was being very picky about where I applied.  Firm X had employees who would rather go through a meat grinder than suffer another day at their firm.  Firm Y was a huge, ancient machine, rolling along with the good ol’ boy network for which Richmond is infamous.  Firm Z had a crazy managing partner who slammed doors so hard, the ceiling tiles would fly out. 

In other words, I either knew too much about the firm to want to work there or the reputation of the firm preceded it in a cloud of foul-smelling smoke.  There were a few firms here that had stellar reputations and a few that were so quiet (meaning they didn’t send their marketing people out of the local office frequently),  I didn’t know much about them.  The firm I ended up with was one of those “quiet” firms, and it wasn’t until I began the interviewing process that I found out who the players were and what the environment was like.  Rather than belabor all the details that led me to taking on this project, I’ll just give the number 1 reason I ended up here. 

The CMO here in my firm is “famous”, at least in the legal marketing world.  I’d heard his name tossed around at other firms and legal marketing events.  He was originally a lawyer, but one of the rare ones crazy good with business development, and decided to go into the business of teaching other lawyers how to sell.  Yeah, I said sell - which usually freaks the lawyers out.  His job is way more 20,000 feet up in the air than any consulting I did.  He’s big picture; I’m big picture on a small budget, meaning I had to do most everything myself to implement the big picture.  His passion for business development is probably the number one thing I love about legal marketing - working with lawyers, helping them gain the confidence needed to step outside the office, and showing them the ways they can help their communities and clients. 

Having the opportunity to work under someone who could teach me so much was icing for me.  I’ve had lots of bosses - some of them have been spectacular (my boss at the accounting firm, so strategic in his moves that he could seem to magically make everyone more productive; one of my favorite consulting clients up in DC who has the most incredible ethics and humor and brilliance).  Some of them have been, well, less than spectacular and you wonder how they ever came to be in a management role (let’s not forget the boss addicted to kiddie porn who couldn’t help himself from watching it in the office, or the one who was caught having sex with the office admin in the middle of day, on his desk, at work).  I was excited about all the smart people in my department and I was hoping it was as good as they promised it would be.

So far, the lip service about the culture here has proven true.  With the minor blip or burp or bad day, my team functions as a true team, and it’s refreshing to be surrounded by good attitudes and a lot of brain power. 

One day, I was talking to my coworker about the backgrounds of people we work with. I have always loved learning how people end up where they do, and we talked about our boss.  She pulled out a letter, simply titled “Christmas 2007”.  It was a copy of something he’d sent to family and friends way back when.  Reading through it, I was blown away.  I really knew nothing about his personal life, his family, or anything outside of the legal marketing realm.  I finished reading and thought about the letter.  I thought and thought about it for another two weeks before I got up the nerve to tell him that I wanted to publish it here, on my blog. 

I was given permission to put it here, though I have redacted some of the names of family members or other identifying characteristics.  It’s lengthy, but don’t skip over any of it. It will make sense when you read it.  Reading it as I did - blind to the circumstances of his family and life - made the message even more poignant.  Other than adding links to items he referenced and the aforementioned “names changed to protect the innocent”, it is unchanged from its original form. 

“Me happy now.”  Reid says these words whenever he hears or does something that strikes his fancy.  Learning that “Kaboom” (America’s Funniest Videos) will be on Sunday night or that Craig will be home from Boulder for a visit; going to Paige’s school to “push me please” (Reid’s words for swinging), or just hearing that I will be home from work in time for dinner – any of these is enough to trigger the phrase. 

I was wondering what would make most of us say me happy now?  Getting a promotion, a raise or an unexpected day off?  Getting flowers or a massage?  Taking a trip with someone we love?  Reading (or writing) a good book?  Reconnecting with an old friend?  Closing a huge deal?  Visiting a family member that we haven’t seen for a while?  If these are the things that make us happy then it seems that we should be doing them, or, at least, working toward doing them.  There is nothing wrong with focusing on a little happiness in the midst of our sometimes-crazy over-scheduled lives, right?  I would really like to declare 2008 ‘the Year of Joy’!

Many of you probably heard about Randy Pausch, the young professor at Carnegie Mellon who was told he had just a few months to live earlier this year.  A father of 3 small children, he chose to use his remaining time to make a positive impact on the world and to establish an exemplary legacy for his children.  He called the diagnosis “a gift”, saying: “to actually know how much time I had left on this earth gave me a chance to plan carefully how I used every minute.”  His Final Lecture has been viewed by millions of people on YouTube, and he has truly made a positive difference in many lives.  My favorite point in Randy’s presentation is that brick walls are put in our way not to stop us, but to give us something to break through.  He talks a lot about childhood dreams, and enabling the dreams of others.  God bless the people who give us the gift in the message to “live like you’re dying.” 

Albert Ellis, whom Psychology Today once described as the “greatest living psychologist” (before he died, of course), was fond of quoting the Greek stoic philosopher, Epictetus, who essentially said: ‘It’s not events, but our opinions of them, which cause of suffering.  The challenge is to be able to change our opinions and mental habits so that we become robust and self-accepting enough to withstand external events that used to cause us suffering, such as getting rejected by a woman or getting fired.’  So as we face the inevitable challenges of daily life, maybe our response to whatever happens around us should be me happy now . . . not only when Paige makes a full-out diving save in a soccer game, but when she lets a soft goal slip past her - - me happy now that she is able to play and be part of such a great team.  When I think of Craig graduating from college in May it makes me smile, but I still need to be happy if he says he may not move back to Boston.  I am typing with a stiff neck and wearing a brace right now, but Reid keeps kissing my neck saying “bubba better?” Even with this pain, how can I not be happy now?

Where else can we find Reid’s wonderful perspective in our lives?  How about when loved ones like Jorgan, Kristen and Aunt Judy beat the odds and get a good bill-of-health; when I receive a wonderful book like “Season of Life” and I like it so much that I send a bunch of copies to my high school football friends; when Karen tells me she and Clara got a “Big W” in their team tennis match; when Paige says she really likes her teachers; when we learned that our 6-month kitchen renovation project would be done (almost) on time; when we heard that Craig’s first snowboarding runs of the season were a blast; when thinking about our annual trip to Florida with friends; going to a World Series game in Denver, or when family friends welcome us into their home on Thanksgiving.  Me happy now.  How about a weekend with Lizzie on Nantucket, a vacation in Florida with friends, sharing my collection of poems, or hearing Paige sing in the school chorus.  What about weekend getaways with Karen, or going to a yoga class (my new favorite workout).  There is real joy in the rapport and connection Karen has with her brothers.  And what about Terry and Jodi having a baby!  Me happy now. 

I am reminded of the movie Being There in which Peter Sellers’ character shares simple insights (mostly gleaned from TV) that catapult him from being a reclusive gardener to a Presidential advisor.  “If you give the flowers water, they will grow…” Simplicity.  No agenda.  No political clutter and no ego.  Here, simple, honest phrases are interpreted as genius and loving kindness – a lot of lessons in a simple movie. 

There are a number of life lessons encapsulated in Reid’s simple little phrase, too.  We are blessed to have a loving caretaker, Helaine, who spends a lot of quality time with Reid.  But someday we will need to introduce Reid to a home where he will be with peers and full-time caretakers.  We will plan and make the move sensitively, but leaving him there for the first time will be devastating emotionally.  Our strength at that moment will not come from within, though; it will come from Reid when he looks around his new digs for the first time and turns to us with his disarming smile and says “me happy now.”  We will draw on his capacity to accept profound change, appreciate life’s constants and connections, and his willingness to openly express his feelings . . . now that, my friends, is inspiration. 

So why is there so much focus on Reid this year, when we have two other wonderful children?  Partly it’s because no matter how you interpret the Bible, its insights about children are priceless.  The psalm says: “Come as a baby weak and poor to bring all hearts together.”  God has blessed us with someone who, in many ways, will always be a child.  “Whomever welcomes this little child . . . welcomes God.”  Reid doesn’t rely on hype or phony positivism to enjoy life; he just enjoys what he enjoys; he seeks it out and drinks it in.  Even something as basic as bedtime prayers (which he calls “God Bless”) or riding in the front seat of the bus or seeing a UPS truck gets it done for him.  I want to learn from that perspective what joys I might be missing in everyday life . . .

Talking about Reid also gives me a chance to talk about Karen - - she who for 17 years has never once – not once – complained about how much work it is to bathe and feed and dress Reid; no complaints about trips to the doctor or spilled water.  Like Laurie, for whom the same can be said, this, to me, is the true definition of ‘motherhood’.  Thank you to all who give care and comfort to those in need or less fortunate.  It represents the kind of giving that I want to be reminded of this holiday season. 

We can slice and package “time” any way we want, and it may seem artificial to say we are at the end of a “gift”; but we are at the end of another year, and that is a gift for which I am truly thankful.  Let the ‘first gift of Christmas’ this year be hope for more time together to live, and to give and to love.

This entire message had great personal meaning to me, especially since the last few years have been so disruptive and chaotic.  Allowing myself to feel happiness, or god forbid, joy in the little things, has been a major struggle for me.  After I finished digesting the letter, I took advantage of a breezy, sunny day and ran across one of the main bridges downtown that crosses the James River.  Instead of listening to music and gutting it out through the run, I listened to the cars and the birds and sniffed the air.  I focused on how good the water tasted, said hi to every homeless person I met, and lingered near a local brewery featuring a woman singing out on the deck.

Additionally, my dad recommended “Being There” to me at a young age.  I didn’t get the movie the first time I saw it, but I get it now and I love it.  My dad’s eternal optimism and his ability to be grateful for life when so many of his friends from WWII didn’t have that same benefit . . . it made him fearless about risk-taking and it made him one of the few people I knew who absolutely drank in life’s experiences with the same amount of gusto in which he consumed Manhattans and wine. 

I can’t say I’m always going to remember to do those things, but when I look around my office at the bumper stickers someone had made for my boss (unsurprising in that they say “Me happy now!” - Reid), it’s a little jolt in the middle of a regular workday filled with perceived crises and deadlines and emergencies. 

It also reminds me daily that I probably made the right decision in coming here. 

I like to communicate.  Up until my marriage started to fall apart, I used to pride myself on being a good communicator.  I could talk to anyone, at any level - from CEOs to farmers to random people in line at the grocery store.  I love talking, listening, hearing people’s stories.  It’s rare that I am speechless.  Perhaps I should be speechless more often. 

I got a weird package in the mail today from Apple.  It was an oddly shaped package, wrapped similarly to the way Amazon.com wraps their books.  I was distracted - it was dinner time.  I pulled it out of the packaging and at first I thought someone had accidentally shipped me a MacBook - it was white and flat and very Apple-like.  I pulled the cover off:

It’s weird pulling a book out and seeing your own mug on the front cover.  I had no idea what was inside it - naked pictures from Vegas?  Much better, actually.  The pages look similar to this one:

Way back when I met my internet friends*, I had no idea how much a part of my life they would become.  Though we are scattered around the world (literally), these women have been rocks to me (just like the one I broke my cocktail glass with at Nobu).  They are, as a whole, the most non-judgmental, diverse, intelligent, well-spoken, strong and opinionated group of women I know.  We get in tiffs from time to time, but the core group is still hanging together more than 2 years after we met online.  We’ve watched eachother’s children grow, gone through pregnancies, miscarriages, marital issues, family drama, fights, a few trolls, and a lot of alcohol when we’ve met in person. 

When I was hospitalized, one of the first people I called was Amanda.  She had everyone else’s phone numbers and is Ms. Efficiency, so I knew she would get the word out so that my absence wouldn’t cause any worry as we check in with other daily.  It should be a testament to the strength of those relationships that she was one of the first people I called.  She kept in touch with Mike, sent notes out to everyone, fielded phone calls, and generally made herself available.  When I got home, Jess refused to take no for an answer and called and called until I finally answered the phone.  They continue, as a group, to reach out to me, even though I’m a total crap friend these days who doesn’t return phone calls or emails and rarely checks in on the forum we have set up.  They seem to ignore my boring, monosyllabic responses and they continue to love me regardless of how unpleasant I am these days. 

Apparently, Cathy came up with the original idea.  Cathy, who lives in Hong Kong, who has very young baby and a very active boy, somehow coordinated and put it together.  The book is divided into sections.  Each section has two pages, each set written by one of the women in the group.  There are pictures of us together.  There are lists of ways I have affected their lives. Funny memories of phone calls, emails, or our rare meet-ups. There is poetry and some of the nicest things that have ever been written about me. 

Today was one of those days where I don’t answer the phone.  I spent a lot of time being angry that one of my medications IS.NOT.WORKING.  I’m over feeling like shit every day, I’m tired of crying, I’m tired of being a mess inside and putting on a happy face in public.  I’m tired of hurting my husband, and I’m tired of hurting period.  When I opened that book, and forced myself not to focus on how fat I was in some of the pictures (old habits die hard), I got a very timely glimpse of the person I was.  All these days and months thinking that I’ll never be the same again, or be loved again, or be enjoyed by others - well, I will come out of this.  Under the sadness and depression and fear, I’m still there, clawing my way out, trying to redefine myself.  My friends articulated things about me that I haven’t dared think about, let alone say.  They took time out of their own crazy lives and did this thing for me, and I was completely and utterly speechless.

After I cried (this time because I was so awestruck over what they had done), it took me another 30 minutes to try to thank them for what they did and tell them how important they are in my life.  Words really failed me - there is no good way to express the amount of feeling I have about what they did.  I tried, though - and I’m trying again here. 

My family has supported me through this time.  My husband, whom I’ve devastated, has supported me.  And without them, I wouldn’t be surviving.  Equally important, my friends have surrounded me, called me, written me, pestered me, bought me coffee and wine, and beat me until I cracked and bled.  They beat the truth out of me, then helped put me together again.  I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve the people who have formed a very warm and protective circle around me, but I am truly and completely grateful. 

I realize this may seem unnecessary, but I started making this list out in my head and I realized how many people have really and truly been there for me during this horrid stinky time in my life.  Writing it out was physical proof to me that I am the luckiest person on earth.  Thanks in particular to the following people, and please give me a break if I forgot someone because my medication messes with my memory:

Internet Freaks
Alicia
Amanda
Annita
Cathy
Christina
Jenni
Jess
Julia
Kate
Kristin
Melissa
Sara S.
Helena
and Jae, even though she’s left us for the moment (I love you Jae - come back!)

Twitter Peeps (many of whom are now real-life friends):
TheCheckoutGirl
WxDan
JasonKenney
KnownHuman
Snarketta
TrevorDickerson
Napkins
SheDrivesAJimmy
RichmondMom
MsMaladjusted
NewRose
RiverCityGal
Horhey
KindnessGirl
AnaRVA
CarrieFleck
KatieSmithRVA
UVALeg

Friends Met Through “Normal” Channels:
Susan.  I need to say it again.  Susan.  SUUUUUUUUUUUU-SAN.
Sara B.
Laura freakin’ P.
Julie R.
Julie “Restaurant Week” P.
John, Karen & Emma N.
Kimberly H.
Charlette M.
Dee R.
Rick W.
Pat W.
Brent R.
Chris M.
Amanda W.
Chris C.
Tricia H.
Julie P.
Allison E.
Philip & Mary L.
Michael M.
Bill P.
Ellen M.
Wynne R.
Jill B.
Helen B.
Kathy C.
Jennifer D. (my therapist - and she’s awesome)
Henry S.

My Crazy Family in its Entirety, but Particularly:
Anja
Sally
Risa
Mom and Dad
Dave and Beth
Aunt Paula

To each and every one of you:  thank you for being exactly what I needed, when I needed it. 

*i say this in a tongue-in-cheek way - at Bradley’s recent SMCRVA presentation, he said something to the effect that internet friends can be just as real, if not more so, than our flesh and blood friends. It was validating, because everything Bradley says is unequivocably true. 

I recently had the pleasure of meeting, live and in person, the infamous and city-renowned Kate Hall from Richmond Mom.  If you use twitter, you can also follow her @richmondmom.  Her tweets often make me spew water out of my nose or snort loudly in public, both good things (if not slightly painful).  Kate’s my hero, and I really fell in love with her after we carpooled to an SMC event and she sat down in my car with a purple Solo cup full of red wine.  The woman can rock it!  She also understands completely that just because you own a website doesn’t mean you’re rolling in the cash.  We both work hard, and understood immediately the challenges of being both mothers and business owners.  It’s not all that glamorous, but the good thing is, I get to meet women like Kate because of my job.

Kate is also my hero because she’s a published author.  And she wrote an amazing book for children entitled Richmond Rocks.  In a nutshell:  Richmond Rocks is a brief glimpse into the amazing history that Richmond holds for its little learners. Three Richmond, VA kids discover Richmond’s past by journeying through some of its many historical landmarks and sights, with the help of their mom.  On this fabulous journey, they learn that Richmond really does rock!

As a non-native to this area, one of the things that struck me my first year of living in Richmond was how saturated with history the streetcorners and cobblestones are.  My kids are growing up in a historical environment, but are clueless because we mostly hang in the sterilized green-grassed lawns of a suburb.  There ain’t nothin’ historical about the Starbucks on the corner, or the strip malls.  Head 15 minutes east and slightly south and you’re surrounded by history.  Kate recognized the story idea would be an excellent way to introduce the 4-8 demographic about their hometown. 

One of the things I loved best about the book is that it is all Richmond, 100% through and through.  The author and editor, the illustrator, the photography, and the publisher:  all local.  It’s awesome.  I’m super proud of Kate, and encourage you Richmonders (Richmondites?  Monders?  RichmondPeeps?)  to purchase the book.  Or at least go to her site and send her a message of love and support.  She deserves it. 

Tonight a friend took me out for dinner at the relatively new Water Grill that opened where Karsen’s used to be.  It was a beautiful fall night, and we were able to snag a table outside. 

Food critic I am not, but I had a fabulous dinner.  We split two appetizers - the fried buffalo oysters recommended by @rivercitygal and the edamame hummus.  Both were delicious.  For the main event, I ordered the seafood pasta, which was served over whole wheat linguine in a tomato broth with shrimp and mussels.  I loved the fact that I could get whole wheat pasta at a restaurant (it’s all I eat at home).  My friend ordered a pork chop in a cranberry glaze with a poached pear stuffed with bleu cheese.  I drooled over the pear.  We splurged and got dessert - a hazelnut toffee torte and lemon sorbet.  Hilariously enough, the sorbet came out in a martini glass and had two round lumps.  Two blueberries perched on the lumps.  My friend exclaimed, “Oh look, titties!” when they came out.  It was a big hit with the gray hairs next to us. 

I’m no restaurant critic, nor is my palette refined like WhineMeDineMe, but I loved the entire experience and really appreciated a dinner out with a friend I haven’t seen in at least a year.  Especially when I didn’t have to pay   So nice to just forget about everything and indulge in good food and conversation, two of my favorite things.