Birthday dinner

in Toronto

So we all found ourselves (after scouting out a half-dozen places along Bloor Street) at Tony Pistola's restaurant, which was just the down-home Italian place Anne had been fantasizing about.

We ate pasta till we just couldn't cope any more.

Then the waiter brought out a piece of cake while the PA system blared out "Happy Birthday To You."

And there were gifts, including this bug-eyed bath scrubber

and the certificate entitling Anne (and Russ, as designated escort) to the next day among the Niagara-on-the-Lake wineries and the opening of Hay Fever, at the Shaw Festival. She seemed pleased.

We only got a couple of pictures from the Shaw Festival: outside the stage door, where we ate peaches and speculated on how one ought to be dressed for an opening, and from the balcony overlooking the folks who were dressed for the opening.

And, all in all, it seemed like a good time was had by all.

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