I'm late on the blog this week. Sorry about that. Because I'm late, I'll try to keep this short. Last night Tess and I and Lanie went out for Tess's birthday. We went to Buffalo Wild Wings (from here on, B-Dubs). That may seem like an odd choice to you, dear reader, but that's really not out of the ordinary for Tess and me. If I had to guess, I would say we've eaten at B-Dubs more than any other restaurant in our married life. Part of that is because we enjoy it. Wings or chicken tenders with a whole variety of sauces just hits the spot for us sometimes. But after six years of marriage, there's something almost sentimental about B-Dubs for us. You see, about a month after our wedding we moved to Grand Rapids, MI. There was a B-Dubs basically across the street from where we lived. The night we moved in, we went there after a long day of traveling and unloading. From then on whenever we didn't want to cook, there was B-Dubs. Whenever we planned on going out but didn't really know what we wanted to eat, there was B-Dubs. When we were dead tired and celebrating our first anniversary a few days late, there was B-Dubs. When we were in Washington for the summer and our hiking plans for our second anniversary were ruined by rain and we drove into the nearest city, there was B-Dubs. Nowdays when we have to go to Walmart and decide that we want to go out to eat since we're driving at least an hour and a half round trip, what's basically the first restaurant we see? You got it, B-Dubs. At this point it's tradition. It's our place. Maybe that's unusual, but that's okay. It's us.
Grace and peace,
BMH
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