Seven Years

For the first time since we were married, Hubband and I were together on our anniversary.

It was kind of amazing, actually.

The IL's came into town to watch the final soccer games of the season, and took the boys for the night so we could go have a night alone.  Sometimes, halos float above their heads. 


We managed to score some Gavin DeGraw tickets at Wolf Trap, so after soccer we scrubbed the sunscreen off and got all pretty.

We had dinner at "Ovations", WolfTrap's open air restaurant.
DELICIOUS.
Hubband's "my wife is taking another freaking picture of me, this is as good as she's going to get" pose. 

My mom used to have a t-shirt from a Grateful Dead concert (who am I kidding? She had a lot of those shirts...)
from a concert at Red Rocks amphitheater.
I felt a bit like I'd gone back in time when I saw the scene on the lawn.  

However, we had box seats.
DAMN good box seats.
The usher seated us, and mentioned how our seats were awesome.
(Something we'd noticed...)
We mentioned that we bought them last minute and she informed us that it meant
some dignitaries/the president had decided last minute not to go.
So yes, those good box seats.

Such an amazing performer.
No, I don't watch "Dancing with the Stars", and have been a fan for a LONG time.

And then there's this dude.  Who had no rhythm.  Who decided to move IN FRONT OF ME with his no rhythm.
Who bounced, bobbled and weaved right in my line of vision.  (He was standing on his chair.)
I pretty much wanted to punch him in his unrhythmick head.

That was pretty much the night.  Date nights are good.  It's especially good when the hubband gets the one song he was hoping for.  Chemical Party, in case you were wondering. 
Then we went home, and by "went home", I mean that we spent 45 minutes trying to get out of the parking lot.