The good life

The man and I went to dinner to celebrate being hitched 33 years ago, and were joined by our offspring and their loves, and our niece, our current "roomie." When our son moved back home after college and lived with us for three years before moving into his own apartment, he used to come home in the evenings and call out to us, "Hey, roomies! I'm home." Our dinner, my daughter joked, was a gathering of all the roomies, past and present; she noted that her boyfriend and my son's girlfriend spent enough time in our home when she and her brother were still living there, to qualify. Dinner was at a small, brick walled place on 5th Street in the East Village called Tuome, where every dish is delicately balanced and utterly delectable. The menu looks humble. The taste of the food is decidedly not. My daughter discovered their snow crab noodle in dashi butter through one of the events for her job, and she took me there two years ago. I wanted to go back there as a big group to celebrate. We did miss our Dallas contingent, but were treated to a video the newlyweds shared of them with their new Tesla, summoning the driverless car to them from the far end of a parking lot. Everyone hooted! There are many ways to live the good life. This dinner, right here, in this company, definitely qualifies.