Last night Sarah and I went up to ritzy Anaheim Hills for dinner. We’re not in the so much in the habit of going to nice places as we are in the habit of getting invited to nice places: a friend of ours from Grand Rapids was doing business in LA, and he wanted us to meet the owner of the restaurant (Yve’s Bistro). This restaurateur (Yve) was thinking of selling everything (house, restaurant, wife, etc.) and becoming a missionary but was hesitant due to uncertainty about the effect such a move would have on his young daughters. It is at this point that Sarah comes in (there was never really a point at which I came in, but I ate the dinner none the less). We talked with them for an hour or so and then ate dinner with our friend from Grand Rapids who’d served as moderator for the evening. After dinner, we found that Yve and his wife had put our tab ‘on the house’. It was the first time that had happened to either of us, and we rather enjoyed it.

In a slight aside, we had fried calamari for an appetizer; it was, by far, the best I have ever had (and by ‘best I have ever had’, I mean ‘didn’t taste like fried rubber bands’: it was actually quite tasty). In any case, on the drive home, I asked Sarah how she liked the octopus. She said, “We had octopus? I just thought that was fish.” Naturally, I ridiculed her lack of culture; it wasn’t until today that I remembered calamari is actually squid. Who’s the rube now?