I’ve been counting the number of dates my fellow and I have been on since the beginning, and last weekend we hit #100. Fine, we had already planned the trip to New Orleans anyway, and he is generally unaware of what number we’re on, but it was fun to say, “We are celebrating our 100th date! Of course I’m going to have dessert/another drink/this entire loaf of french bread.” I love a license to do things and a reason to celebrate. Speaking of french bread, remember how I couldn’t eat bread? I just…got over it. I gradually added it back and now it’s fine. I admire my body’s ability to communicate things to me that I don’t understand, whether it is “girl, this guy is not right for you, here’s an allergy to him” or “maybe if you can stop eating bread for a year, you can stop other behaviors that don’t really work for you, either.”

The Best Things I Ate in New Orleans Last Weekend, Where We Celebrated Our 100th Date, Which is a Thing People Do and Not at All Made Up:
the crab caesar at Marjie’s (so bright and sharp and salty and perfect!)
barbequed shrimp at Brigtsen’s (where I also ate a loaf and a half of french bread)
a fried green tomato + fried shrimp poboy at Mahony’s (I’m starting a petition to replace all tomatoes with the fried green variety)

We also rode the streetcar and heard a great band and eavesdropped on some dumb conversations and walked around and looked at junk and saw a guy tap dancing while holding a baby (that was upsetting) and overall it was a great time.

I don’t want to lose a single thread
from the intricate brocade of this happiness.
I want to remember everything.
–Mary Oliver