The husband and I are living it up like a childless 20-something couple tonight and heading to the District to see
Patrick Watson in concert. Before the doors open (ridiculously late!), we're having dinner at
Granville Moore's. The thing is, my poor husband can't drink (he's some sort of mutant who can't break down alcohol), so he *always* expects
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I've had the Stella Artois and a Framboise of some kind before. Nothing else looked familiar. Sorry. Have fun!
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