You know you're old when... part II

Cracker Barrel is the place you most want to eat.

On one of our few nights that didn’t have any plans in place, that’s where we chose to go. Maybe it was that the weather is finally feeling “fall-ish”. Or maybe it was closer than almost anywhere else we could go.  Or maybe it was because we hoped they had a fire going, just because we love them.  Or maybe it was because, we, after all, are southern folks, and sometimes you just need to eat those things that remind you of your heritage.

I don’t know why Cracker Barrel is what has been appealing to DH lately, but for me, it’s something else.  When I go there, in a way that doesn’t happen anywhere else, I’m transported to another time and place.  We lived in Atlanta for a while--and ate at lots of the hot restaurants.  I’ve been to Dixie Stampede and Medieval Times.  But none of those places, despite their cost or their elaborate scenery, has been able to take me away like a meal at Cracker Barrel.  At all of those other places, DH and I have still managed to talk about bills and politics and who said what or who was wearing what. We’ve counted calories and pinched pennies. But when we’re at Cracker Barrel, we don’t do those things.  We talk about our dreams.  We sit and linger longer than is probably acceptable.  And sometimes, we even dine quietly (which if you know my husband, is unfathomable), completely at peace in the silence.  Somehow, a glass of rootbeer in a frosty mug is more soul soothing than anything we might find at a hip bar.  And admittedly, dining by lamplight makes everything more magical.

When I go to Cracker Barrel, I’m transported to a simpler time.  A time which I haven’t known, but which I'd desperately like to see.

You know you're old when...

A new piece of furniture is the most exciting thing rocking your world...

But I do love my new sideboard.  I’ve been wanting one since last Thanksgiving when I realized I didn’t have enough space for both the people and the food.

DH has been indulging my quest, and we’ve happily snuck in little trips to antique stores as often as our schedules would allow (which hasn’t been terribly often lately.)  And maybe as much as I love my sideboard, maybe I’ve loved spending time with him just as much. It’s almost felt like it did when we were dating-- just heading off on the spur of the moment, making the very most of every minute we have.

We’ve seen a lot of great pieces, but not great for us.  They’ve either been wrongly shaped, or the wrong color of wood, or beat up, or too much money.  But this one is perfect-- and it very nearly matches the china cabinet that we bought a few weeks before we got married.

Somehow, slowly, we’re developing our own sense of style.  Our “just married” furniture is gradually being replaced by things of which we love.  And maybe we’re turning into grown ups-- who knew?

All that from a piece of furniture...