So, what are you doing next month?

My first date with Jeff was on October 25, 2002.  It was a blind date, and therefore, starting off from scratch getting to know each other.  One month later was Thanksgiving and I had invited my family (many months prior) to come up to Arlington to celebrate the holiday with me.  Everyone (Dad, Rita, Mom, Jim, Meghan) was able to make it except Lori.  She was living in Paris at the time and it really didn't make sense for her to make the journey overseas for essentially a 3 day trip.  However, Lori decided to surprise everyone and showed up on my doorstep Wednesday night.  It was very exciting for me to cook Thanksgiving dinner that year and have everyone together.

At this point, Jeff and I had dated for a month.  I knew my family was eager to meet this new boy I had started to get to know and any opportunity for him to meet my whole family would be far and few between.  I arranged for us to go to lunch at Old Ebbitt Grill the day after Thanksgiving.  My dad loves Old Ebbitt Grill because he likes to think he will run into a Senator or some VIP at the table to next to us.  Plus, I think he enjoys dining so close to the White House.  And, the food is pretty good.

So there we were, all sitting at the table giving Jeff the opportunity to meet my family and my family the opportunity to meet Jeff.  Please remember, I had only known him one month.  Halfway through the meal, I get up and go to the bathroom.  When I return, Jeff leans over and says, "Your dad just invited me come to Orlando for New Year's."  WHAT!?!?!  Of course my dad waited until I left the table to do this.  I was mortified!  We are fast approaching the 10th anniversary of this infamous lunch and I can still feel how hot my face got when Jeff clued me in on what happened.

 It wasn't until a few days later, that Jeff and I were driving in the car and he brought up my dad's invitation.  If I remember correctly, Jeff said very casually, "So, what do you think about your dad asking me to come next month?"  I replied back with a shrug, "Sure, if you want to."  And with a tip of the hat to Paul Harvey, 'and that's the rest of the story.'

I guess my dad wanted to make sure I didn't let this one get away. I can laugh about it now, but at the time I was ready to go back to the bathroom and stay there.  And this story is the reason why I silently chuckle to myself when I hear the words "Old Ebbitt Grill".