Asparagus Salsa Dance

We must be the anti-Valentine or something. We made the effort this year, we really did. We BOTH remembered to buy a card. We both got a gift. (I got a new watch battery, and Mike is going to pick himself out some basketball shoes with the credit I have at Kohl's. Clearly, these are very thoughtful and romantic gifts.)
I checked the mail and my dad had sent me a CD full of Shag Music! Well, that and one random ZZ Top song that I can't explain. We got him a CD burner for Christmas and he's a man possessed. Over our Valentine's dinner, we decided dad's DJ name was DJ Honky Ed and the Phat Tunes. But I digress. The point was that we played music during dinner instead of yelling at the dog. Again, clearly romance.
So, me in my ARMY t-shirt, jeans, and knee highs leftover from my work day, Mike in his gym clothes, we started a fine meal. And a fine meal it was. I had planned our favorites: grilled salmon, asparagus, and baked sweet potatoes. YUM. The salmon was even on sale! What luck! Turns out it was the semi-fresh/suspiciously orangy/contains bones variety. That explained the sale. So we made it more of a veggie dinner. That's how I wound up eating a bowl of popcorn. But! With a glass of grocery store white zinfandel. Eh?? Pretty schmancy, huh? No milk for me tonight - I had old wine! With bits of cork floating in it for texture! Elegant.
During our meal, Mike told me about the Valentine's Fish Fry at the firehouse his parents were attending back home. "Ooh la la!" I said, waving a piece of asparagus around on the end of my fork. "They're doing more than we are for the holiday!" he pointed out. I nodded in agreement as we gazed at Gus the Beagle, bug-eyed with desperate longing as he lapped with his tongue at the bits of fish dangling from the grill fish basket on the table. A passionate, even tender, moment in our home.
My ealier bout with the asparagus then inspired Mike to inexplicably place a piece of limp asparagus between his teeth and begin some form of Latin dance around the kitchen as though asparagus were somehow...a rose? I'm not sure where he was going with that. I was unsure about the origins of his dance plan, but the climax came when the end of the asparagus toppled from his mouth to Gus' delight.
"DOhhhh!" we chorused at this athletic save by Gus. A near miss for us. Asparagus gas in a dog is never fun. Should add some entertainment to the evening, I'm thinking.
After we made some bets on how far Gus could flick salmon bits with his tongue, we called it a night. Good times. Good refined times. We're middle class folk living as straight up white trash behind closed doors. Real nice. (-Cousin Eddie)