Return of the Redeye

Allergy symptoms hit hard beginning a week or two ago. Now my day consists of waking up with a runny nose, eyes I want to claw out of my skull, and an itchy throat that could use a drubbing with some 80 grit sandpaper. The generic Zyrtec I got from Rite Aid seems to work randomly. Take the regular dose, and not much seems to happen. Double it, and for periods throughout the day, the symptoms are quelled, but not consistently. Aiding all the fun is the younger lad who wants to play catch outside 24 - 7. I thought staying in with the AC would help, but as evinced on Saturday, it didn't make a difference. So either the whole outdoors and indoors is saturated with ragweed, or I'm simply screwed. I'll suggest the latter, since that's the way my luck goes.

Nothing Says Happy Anniversary Like . . .

While most of the more romantic types might finish the headline with a swoopy, Harlequin Romance kind of rose petal filled bathtub with candles burning and dripping all over the sides of the tub, Michael Bolton music wafting through the smoke and incense infused air, and a slightly chilled bottle of the second cheapest bottle of champagne (actually sparkling wine) that New York State proudly offers, things are done just a bit differently at this house. And so, when I spied this gem in the big beer cooler at Wegmans yesterday, I knew my quest for the perfect evening and means of celebration were all wrapped together in this one little can. Clam juice, tomato juice, and watered down beer all rolled into one? Surely the gods are looking down upon us all.

On a more serious note, today does indeed mark the 15th year of unabated bliss here, and while I will not divulge details (personal information, is, after all, just that), if you do happen to see the missus or myself today, you may congratulate either one of us, and by that I mean rid your wallets of those unseemly dollar bills and hand them over immediately so we can get vittles at a place nicer than KFC.

And if you're thinking I am a total cad and behaving a bit cavalier, and how dare I and I should have at least made reservations somewhere, I defer to the demands of real life. As for a restaurant, provide your recommendation and why in the comments section, and if I use your suggestion, well, I'll send a can of Chelada your way. Second, with the reunion gig of the Press Tones around 48 hours away, any chance of dinner is overtaken by an imminent practice, and a performance the next night. Paltry excuses for the avoidance of a showering of love, but I'm not the best planner in the world. So on a makeup date, where would you go for a dinner, and why? And no, the place cannot have a drive through.

In the meantime, I have to hustle to get some flowers bundled together and ice some cupcakes. In closing, Fred and the boys said it best.