A romantic dinner

Tonight my husband took me to Duff’s, a restaurant specializing in chicken wings, for our anniversary dinner. The kids came along too since we were traveling. We dined in the game room where loud, pounding music added that special ambience. While we waited for our entrees, our daughter (almost 3) pumped it up on the Express Pump It Up dance floor and our youngest son (almost 6) called the shots at the pool table (he wasn’t playing.)

When our meals finally came, we savored the hot (spicy) wings swimming in sauce. The kids got off easy though, they shared a single order of mild wings. And fought over who should drink which milk.

As my husband and I gazed at each other from opposite ends of the table, he broke out in a sweat. I think it was the wings. They were darn hot; my nose started to run before I’d finished even one. That’s a good sign. (I told you this was a romantic dinner). The reaction of my nose is a good indicator of whether wings are hot enough.

When our wings were reduced to nothing but a large scattered pile of bones, we were still hungry, so we put in one more single order. We were promised it'd be ready in 20 minutes. 45 or so minutes later we had our extra order. Meanwhile, we spent probably a hundred dollars in quarters.

We polished off the wings and then got ice cream bars, which were actually as tasty as gourmet desserts but a lot cheaper (we were broke by then, and Duff’s doesn’t offer gourmet desserts anyway). They were the perfect finish to a most romantic dinner...