That's amoré

We went out for a birthday dinner on Saturday night, for my friend Gillian. I swear it was something out of "Moonstruck".

We went to an Italian place up the road, Amundsen and Nobile. It's a little bitty place, very koselig, you'd miss it if you weren't looking for it, but there is something wonderful about it. Is it the all-Italian staff? Is it the red and white checkered table clothes and the candles stuck in chianti bottles, all dripping with wax and so cliché yet charming? Is it the good quality food and the wine by the liter? Or, maybe, it was the band, complete with accordion, singing an interesting mix of Norg-talian, all the classics, such as "That's Amoré" which is now stuck in my head and won't come out? We all sang along and clapped and had a great time. Gilly was celebrating one of the BIG birthdays (those ending with a "0") yet she looked and acted like a teenager. As did I. And most of the other people there.

But I have had "That's Amoré" in my head for two days now. Brought home to me even more when I noticed the moon looking at me like a "big pizza pie"as I came home from work today. Which made me think of Italian food (a style of food I think of constantly when it is cold, I mean, is there ANYTHING better than Italian on a cold night?) Which meant that I had to make lasagna.

Which I did. I'd never made it before but thought, what the hell, and just threw it together, sans recipe, and I'll be damned if it wasn't AWESOME!!!!!

I so rule.

In other news, I think I like my new boss. I've decided that he is a pretty good guy, for a high level muckety muck manager. He's got his head on straight and while his standards are high, they are correct. One thing I've discovered about me is that I have to feel like I can learn from a boss or it is just not gonna work. I think I can learn from this guy. Might even learn a lot. Sweeet.