#185 He is City Lovin'

Weekend I’d Forget

I can cram the events of this past weekend into three acronyms: NYC, AC, SONJ

And for the first time ever, the highlight of the weekend wasn't the food!

Blasphemy, I know!

We started with a 'work dinner’, but dinner with Hubby's coworkers is never a traditional 'work dinner’ it is too much fun to be considered that. We ate at “Blue Water Grill” in Union Square. Part of me was wishing I had come three hours earlier to walk around the area and soak it all in—I love Union Square!

I ordered the scallops and naturally, they were fabulous. However, as I said, the food really wasn’t the highlight. We were seated in the restaurant’s Jazz Dining Room and were only feet away from live entertainment that played everything from classic jazz hits to pop hits with a twist.

Hubby and I were eyeing up the Shellfish Tower that several tables ordered. It was three tiers of the best seafood around. Perhaps next time…

As we headed to our hotel after a little wandering around town, I saw what appeared to be flames. I could only imagine it was a contained, controlled fire and wasn’t worried until we walked closer and there was no one there containing or controlling.

By the time we were across the street from it, we realized a huge garbage container was ablaze and growing by the second. A bouncer at a club across the street stood in the middle of the road shouting the license plate numbers of the car behind and in front of the fire to the hostess in case it was one of their patrons’. We were more concerned with calling the fire department. It certainly appeared as though this wasn’t a regular occurrence on West 36^th street because every passerby stopped what they were doing to stare at the flames. Some people ran past then stopped, gauging just how far away they felt was safe enough to stop and stare in awe. One daredevil stood about two feet from the flames videotaping the fire.

Not exactly the choice I would have made. We stayed to watch the fireman come all while gazing back and forth between the fire and the line of traffic backed up on the street, and then realized our hotel was in spitting distance from the fire. We went up thinking that we would sit and stare down below and then realized we were in the only level of the hotel with angled windows. They were perfect for a dreamy city view, but not perfect for spying down below.

Here is a bit of common sense. While staying in a hotel, if you want to sleep in, you should close the curtains.

In spite of knowing that the blinding sun would wake me up, I couldn’t. I wanted to go to sleep gazing out at the city and wake up to the city.

And I did.

At 5:00 am.

But the view was so worth it.

For breakfast, we headed uptown, way uptown, to Absolute Bagels which you might remember from our short Valentine’s Day trip to the city. We were greeted with a long line and a very, very, cranky man in front of us.

It was also worth it.

Being the foodies we are, we needed good coffee, so we headed to a French pastry shop. Two lattes and a French donut later, we were headed to Central Park to enjoy our goodies.

This was a REAL French donut, folks. Remember the French donut of Le Pain Quotidien that we discovered in Chicago? Let’s just say I referred to the present pastry as a French donut and the authentic Frenchman behind the counter said, “Well, yeah, you could call it that.”

As if spending the night in the city, seeing our first street fire, and walking around west Central Park wasn’t enough, from NYC we headed straight to Atlantic City to meet up again with Hubby’s work buddies. We weren’t just there to gamble, though of course, we did.

Hubby’s coworker, Jason, plays hockey and his team was having their championship games all weekend. I have only been to one hockey game in my life, and I loved every minute of it. So I was a little over eager to go to the game.

I did, however, forget that even though it is starting to feel like summer in New Jersey, it will always feel like winter in a skating rink. I was the smart one who wore flip flops that day.

Go ahead and laugh. I deserve it.

Here’s where you’re going to think we are absolutely wild and crazy. We drove home somewhere around 12:30 am from Atlantic City to hop in bed and wake up five hours later to go to Gloucester County, NJ for Jonathan’s last Special Olympics swim meet before the Summer Games.

I’ve always been a night owl, but it has been a while since I pulled two days of nonstop activity paired with two nights of five hours or less sleep.

But New York City, work friends, Atlantic City, and Jonathan are all worth it.

This is somewhere around the four hundred and ninety bazillionth swim meet I have attended. I sometimes go with my old hat face on. We’re going to watch Jon swim, we’re going to be excited for him, we’re going to go out to eat and celebrate no matter what.

In his first race he swam his little heart out and legitimately earned his gold medal. I say legitimately because there have been times he was only competing against himself. In that case, earning a gold medal merely means that he swam. This time it meant he pushed past the other two competitors in his division.

The Special Olympics motto is, “Let me win, but if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt.”

I wish all competitors could adopt this motto. It has become a mantra for me along with Habit Four of the Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, “Think Win/Win, Everyone Can Win”.

This was put into action as Jonathan’s 50-meter relay, the dead last heat of the day, took place. I used to feel bad for the people that had to stick out the swim meets until the last event and here we were, sticking it out. Surprisingly, there were still several fans there. Jonathan swam first and was lagging a little behind, but the next two swimmers caught his team up. When the final swimmer, who couldn’t have been more than ten, went to swim, he swam one length of the pool and stopped.

“Go back!!” was screamed from the stands.

We watched as this little guy stopped at the edge of the pool, turned and then swam a few feet. He stopped, swam to the ropes and waited. He slowly pushed himself a little further, then stopped and clung to the ropes again, contemplating the water, looking as though he might not finish the race at all.

This is often the point where the winners’ families all turn away and leave, and the coaches and volunteers for the finished teams start to walk toward the area that medals are given. The families of the lagging team are left standing alone in the stands.

But not this day.

No one moved from the stands. Everyone was already standing from cheering for their teams, and now they all cheered with one common goal—to get this little guy to the finish. The coaches and volunteers crowded around the end of his lane, and just about everyone in the room cheered and clapped for the athlete and the team that would take last place.

“Winning isn’t everything, it’s the only thing” is a famous quote of UCLA Bruins football coach Henry Russell "Red" Sanders. 

My guess is that Mr. Sanders never saw a Special Olympics competition where winning isn’t the focus, but the people behind the sport are what is most important.

Winning should be secondary. People are primary. This weekend, I knew that to be true.

#182 He Lets the City Speak to Him

I have a love/hate relationship with museums. They have become similar to water parks for me. Both grant a can’t-get-this-at-home thrill, yet both have grown in such high demand that it becomes difficult to truly immerse yourself in the experience when you are elbow to elbow with people who need serious lessons in manners.

The solution, for museums at least, is usually to go on obscure weekdays or sunshine filled days where most people will be found outside.

Or in my case, pick the cheap route and only go when you have a coupon.*

*This really isn't true. If I want to go somewhere, I’ll go. However, a coupon gives me a push incentive. It makes me want to make it happen immediately.

Thus was the case with our recent visit to MoMA in NYC. While we were in the city for Valentine’sweekend we put a museum visit on the if-we-need-something-to-do list.

Let’s be honest, in NYC you hardly ever find yourself searching for something to do. It usually shoves itself in your face and says, “Hey! I’m here! Choose me!” Whichever option screams the loudest wins.

At least, that is how it is for me. Maybe the city speaks to you differently.

In the end, we did not find our way over to the museum that weekend.

This worked in our favor because a few weeks ago I was given two free NYC museum passes. Each pass was good for a family of five. It was perfect! Hubby and I would go together and then we would come back in the summer with a larger group. We planned to spend the morning and afternoon of Easter’s Eve in MoMA and then stroll over to Butter for dinner.*

*More about that over at the Orange Strainer. But yes, the restaurant was called Butter. And yes, it rocked my socks off.

While driving into the city, I pulled out my free museum pass, looked it over and froze.

“Maximum of 5 people with a minimum of 1 child age 17 or under” was written in tiny print under the massive bold print announcing the complimentary admission to the museum.

I’m going to spare you the conversation that passed between Hubby and me at that moment because it isn't something I take pride in. I was a balloon who had been pricked and by the second was dropping from a mood of elation to one of ‘Whoa is me!”

My poor husband.

I planned out exactly what I was going to say to the admissions person at the museum. I was going to explain my situation, explain that I work at a school and therefore I should still receive free admission regardless of not having a child with me. Then, if all else failed I would cry.*

*No, I really wouldn't do that. That would have been pathetic.

I told the woman behind the counter my saga and handed her my coupon. Her eyebrows were already raised, and her eyes narrowed into a confused I’m-not-sure-what-to-do kind of manner. Not only did I feel like she wasn't going to let us in for free, but I felt like my coupon must have been written in Greek. She finally looked up at me and said, “This is for The Met. You’re at the Museum of Modern Art.”

Can you say, embarrassing?

I played it cool though.

“Oh, my, gosh! I cannot believe I did that!”

My volume level was pretty much near a concert spectator scream as I rolled my eyes to the ceiling.

“Don’t worry about it; people get us mixed up all the time. You aren't the only one to do it,” she said smiling at me.

That made me feel a little better, but now I was stuck. Should we go over to The Met and tell our sob story again hoping to get free admission there or should we just stay at MoMA? Though I might have gotten the two mixed up, I knew that MoMa had been the museum we had wanted to go to on Valentine’s Day.

We stood for several minutes trying to make up our minds, wasting this woman’s time as the line to get in continued to build. Even so, she didn’t show us any sign of impatience or that she was bothered by our (my) stupidity.

“How much time do you have?” she asked amidst our confused decision making.

“Four or five hours?” I asked instead of told her.

“That's a good amount of time for either,” she said.

“Which one is better though?” I asked, knowing most certainly what she would answer.

“Here,” she said immediately, but with a tone that convinced me she actually meant it.

My brain was malfunctioning as I was, believe it or not, still trying to get over the utter embarrassment of showing up at MoMA with a Met coupon, when another museum employee, Lindsay, came up from behind us. She had caught the tail end of our conversation and began telling us about both museums. Then she told the admissions employee to make us her guests for the day. Two seconds later we were holding a receipt and headed to the fourth and fifth floors at Lindsay’s suggestion.

I went from forlorn to embarrassed to elated in less than five minutes.

The Met is still on the list for another day trip to NYC, but I have a feeling MoMA will be seeing us again simply because of the kindness of Lindsay. She directed us to the best floors in the whole museum and for the first ten minutes I wasn't even concentrating on the art because I was so excited. I floated past Van Gogh’s Starry Night on the high of the treatment we had received.

Having taught art appreciation in the past, it was now surreal to find myself face to face with pieces I had projected onto a boring white classroom wall for my students to see. Discovering that these brilliant masterpieces were right in my backyard made me ashamed it took me so long to see them in person.

We’ll be heading to The Met sometime this summer, but I don’t think you’ll ever find a comparison of the two museums here. It would be too biased based upon this first experience at MoMA. I have the museum itself, the excellent staff, and the masterpieces within their walls to thank for that.

#172 He is My Valentine

Weekend I’d Forget

Somewhere over the last two or three years, I decided I liked Valentine’s Day. For so long I had decided to down play it that I suppose in the end I forced myself to like it. The last time I had been out to eat on Valentine’s Day was back when Hubby and I were dating. We waited at least two hours for a table he had reserved weeks in advance.

No, wait. That sentence doesn't do that experience justice. We waited in the entryway of a little Italian restaurant in South Jersey crammed up against what felt like every other couple in South Jersey. The restaurant was open enough that we could see other couples sitting and enjoying their dinners, but the waiting area was close enough to the front door that we needed to keep our coats on or else endure cold winds every time the door was opened. We stood for so long that at some point, probably around the two hour mark; one of the employees came around and gave every woman waiting a tiny gold heart pendant wrapped in a velvet envelope as some sort of peace offering.    

After that experience, Hubby never wanted anything to do with restaurants on Valentine’s Day again. During the rest of our dating years, we would go out a few days before or after, noting that the day really held no significance. After we were married we began taking turns being responsible for dinner. One year, he ordered food, picked it up on his way home from work, and served it to me on china. Other years, we cooked for each other. You might recall last year, and the surprise trip I planned to Baltimore.

Hubby didn't fail to live up to last year’s standards. He planned an entire weekend in my favorite place: NYC. Though the temperature was somewhere in the not-at-all-human degrees, we still enjoyed ourselves in my favorite place on earth.

Originally, he wanted to get us a room at The Plaza. There is a tiny dork inside of me who desperately wants to one day stay there because of one of my favorite movies, Home Alone 2: Lost in New York.

Don’t judge.

However, the prices were enough to make you scream, so he booked two nights at the hotel directly next to The Plaza: Park Lane Hotel. Same view of Central Park, same exact block, only it was a hunk of cash cheaper.  

We really let our inner foodies shine this weekend. For all the times we have been to NYC we have never had a NYC bagel or pizza.

Take a moment to recover from the shock. It’s overwhelming, I know.

So they were, obviously, two important stops for us to make.

Then, for the first time in over ten years, we went out to eat on Valentine’s Day. I’m not sure how Hubby researches or discovers such awesome restaurants, but our Valentine’s Day meal was out of this world. We had an eight-course dinner that at first made me afraid, then in the end made me want to experience it again and again.

It would only be right to discuss our foodie ventures over at The Orange Strainer. So that is where you will find them.

When we weren't eating, we were shopping. When we weren't shopping, we were rushing to catch the Subway before we started to frost over. Despite the bitter temperature, most of NYC was wide awake and hustling to and from as if it was any other weekend. It made me feel good that we weren't the only people daring enough to take on single digit temperatures with a negative Real Feel.

The food was certainly my favorite part of the weekend, but a close second was sleeping in, sharing champagne with my Hubby, and sitting back and enjoying our view.

I can’t wait to go back in the spring.

  

#125 He Hates Surprises

When Hubby was away in LA, I decided I was fed up with him getting to stay in hotels and me being stuck with the normalcy of our home.*

*Note: I do realize the nonsense of that statement.  I'm sure Hubby would have preferred the normalcy of our home to working a 90 hour work week in LA.

I decided it was time for a mini vacation.  It didn't have to be anywhere too fancy or spectacular, just somewhere for us to get away to for a few days.  When I started to plan and saw that Valentine's Day was on a Friday, I knew that was when we needed to go away.

Then I realized that just about every other couple in the world was wanting to get away that weekend as was reflected in the limited vacancies and roof raised prices.

Fortunately, I stumbled upon a somewhat decent priced Groupon for the Royal Sonesta Harbor Court in Baltimore.  However, to get the harbor view it would have been double the price.  I decided we could manage with a view of the courtyard. 

Of course, I forgot this when we entered our room and instantly walked over to the window.  The view of the valet was a rather depressing one.  Finding out that my Groupon covered parking costs, however, cheered me up.

I quickly got over my view issues when I saw this in our room:

This may or may not have actually been the highlight of my trip.  What a relief it was to find a Keurig and k-cups rather than the travel baggies of coffee filters and prepackaged grinds.  I was just a tad ecstatic about this.

And this...

I don't know how I've managed to return to my ordinary bathroom.  Bathrooms with TVs are where it's at.  I'm sure I have major issues that haven't been diagnosed yet, but between the Keurig and this, I was giddy with excitement and we had only been in our room 1.27843 minutes.

That night, I opened a cabinet door which I assumed was hiding the refrigerator.  Not only did I find the fridge, but, beside it was a spread of candy and goodies similar to the ones Kevin McCallister finds in Home Alone 2 upon entering his hotel suite.  I shrieked, then stared at the bounty of goodness, mesmerized by its beauty.  Then I decided it must be one of those eat-it-and-you-pay-for-it deals.

Hubby later found out that it was complimentary.  There may have been a chorus of 'Hallelujah' sung out at that very moment.   

I don't know what it is about hotels, but I love them.  I love scoping out the different layouts, the horribly patterned carpet, the lack of clutter everywhere, the ice buckets, the tiny bars of soap, the room service.  A few years ago, Hubby and I ordered room service for our first time.  I felt like royalty, and was absolutely hooked.

It was only reasonable that we order room service as our Valentine's Day meal.  We got in around 9:00 pm, and knowing ahead of time that this might be our arrival time, I could only imagine that any decent restaurant in the area was going to be packed.  

I had to weigh out our options.  Let's see, making a reservation to a restaurant that we will more than likely still have to wait at least 30 minutes for, then dining elbow to elbow with strangers to a menu that has been doubled in priced and chosen to the stereotypical desires of Valentine's Day diners or a meal delivered to my room where I can eat on a cozy chair, with no other people around, in the comfort of my thermostat controlled room?* 

*Hubby kept it at a whopping 74 degrees during the day and 68 at night.  If you know my home, that there is the definition of luxury.

I'm sure you can guess what we planned to do for dinner...but this picture says it all:

I was in heaven.  I'm not going to get into the meal here, I'll save that for The Orange Strainer.

The 'where' of the trip was a complete surprise to Hubby.  He only knew that we were going away.  It wasn't until we got in the car to drive that he wanted to guess.  I was going to make him hold out until we got closer, but I'm not that mean.  

Because of the whole surprise factor, I didn't plan out anything for us to do.  I merely searched a few things in the area and gave him my findings.  I also hummed the first three words of the opening song from the show Hairspray several times: 'Good Morning Baltimorrrrrre'...I'm pretty sure it's impossible to visit this city without singing this at some point.  At least, it was for Hubby and me.

I'm going to attempt to leave all our delicious food excursions our of this post in hopes of saving them for my other blog.  It is going to be difficult though because that is, of course, how we began our first morning.*

*I'll give you a hint, we went to a bakery and had pastries, but mine wasn't exactly one you'd normally eat for breakfast.  Think Italian.

To my surprise, or possibly not because I probably have been told this at some time during our marriage, Hubby is a bit of an underwater geek.  When I mentioned the National Aquarium as one of my "Things to Do" choices, he picked it before I could finish my sentence.  We had a few hours to kill before it opened, so we drove around and right into (literally) Fort McHenry.

Although I'm sure when there isn't snow on the ground it is more accessible, I thought the snow added a nice touch.

We went into the museum to discover that it was free to the public for the day and that a tour group was there.  We were able to catch the tail end of their talk.  I learned just how massive the particular flag was that Francis Scott Key was referring to when he wrote "The Star Spangled Banner".  There was a replica of a piece of it in one corner of the museum, and the information explained that the whole flag would have covered one quarter of a basketball court.  The Americans wanted the British to have no difficulty recognizing who they were approaching for their fight.

How very American of them.

As we drove a little more we saw this in the distance...

I knew right away that I liked Baltimore.  How can you not like a place that has a Domino Sugars factory?  

There was also a McCormick's seasonings superstore around the corner from the aquarium that must have had every single seasoning ever created.  I kind of regretted not buying one of everything in the store just so I could have every seasoning I would ever need on hand for the random recipes I tend to make.

I'm going to the Camden Aquarium on a field trip with my class in March.  I'll save most of my aquarium pictures for a post comparing the two aquariums.  Most people in New Jersey swear that our aquarium is better, and based on the last time I was there, I think I agree.  

This was the point in our morning where I realized that my boots were soaking through to my socks, due to the lack of shoveling on the sidewalks down the way from our hotel. 

Keep in mind it was bitter cold out.  

On our way to the aquarium we had to stop in an H&M to get me dry socks because I was already considering my toes a goner.  Don't worry, they're fine now.

At the museum, right away I was mesmerized by the "Dory" fish* which were in the first humongous reef that visitors pass upon entry.

*Note: That is totally not their fishy name, but I'm too creative to call fish by their scientific names.

This turtle who was missing a flipper tugged at my heartstrings.  I wanted to take him home.

That night we went to Hampden which is a neighborhood in Baltimore with a street of cute shops.  We enjoyed ourselves and the different shops, however, the wet and cold of the day did keep us from taking in everything this little town had to offer.

On this trip, we ate more seafood than I think I have ever eaten in my entire life.  Our hotel room had a copy of Baltimore magazine which had an excellent spread on local places to get donuts, candies, cakes, etc.  

Is it bad that when I visit different cities I care more about the food and shopping they have to offer than anything else?  That is basically what our remaining 24 hours in Baltimore involved.  We searched out bakeries and dining locations while incorporating stops at different shopping areas.  Is it bad that while we were at one meal I was already scouring the internet and planning for where our next meal would be?

I hope not.  Because I loved every minute of it.      

#124 He is My Valentine

I have always claimed Valentine's Day is not one of my favorites.  Don't worry, I'm not changing my mind, I'm just lightening my tone.

You can read about the first time I went public with this statement here: Valentine's Day 2012 and then the second time I reiterated my viewpoint here: Valentine's Day 2013.

The commercialism of this holiday is what has always gotten under my skin.  However, if I'm being completely honest (which I always prefer to be), that commercialism is what is most appealing about the holiday.  Bright pinks and reds decking the lanes of grocery stores, chocolates a plenty, and teddy bears the size of your car---they all make me bubble up inside with child-like excitement.

Then I try to be Joe Cool about the holiday and play the, "We shouldn't only show our love for one another on one day of the year" card.

Duh.  We also shouldn't only buy gifts for others on one day of the year, but I don't see anyone boycotting presents on their birthdays or Christmas.

I know a lot of people stress not losing focus on the origins of Valentine's Day.  I don't think expressing love through food, gifts, or words loses the focus, I think it enhances it.  Just a brief history about St. Valentine (who we can't be completely sure we've got the right guy since there were so many different St. Valentines during this time period---who would have known that Valentine is as common a name as John or Joe?): He was a priest in Rome who was martyred for his Christian faith (which was not allowed).  One of the taboo things he did was to marry Christian couples secretly.  

St. Valentine died defending his faith and enabling those of his faith to be brought together as man and wife.  Valentine's Day is a day we can celebrate our love, and our ability to love and be loved in a country free of persecution of our beliefs.

If you want to pick a fight with a holiday, try St. Patrick's Day.  Nowhere in the history of the life of St. Patrick does drinking, leprechauns, or little buckets of gold come in to play.*

*Note: Of course, it is still a great day to celebrate your Irish pride.

#89 He is Worthy of China

I'm going to be very blunt about this.  Some of you will hate me for it and some of you will love me.  More than likely, no one will totally understand me completely.

I am not a lover of Valentine's Day.

I said it, I meant it, the end.

It isn't anything Valentine's Day ever did to me.  I was never jilted on Valentine's Day, I don't hold a grudge against holidays named for Saints, and I certainly don't have any problem with free chocolates.

It always seemed to me a pointless day.  Children get gifts for it, husbands get stressed for it, and women are left plumper from it.

And all this because we are supposed to be communicating something that we should be expressing to our loved ones with every possible passing moment of every single day of our lives.

This year, around the first week of February, when Christmas had finally ended in my home, I saw the displays of pinks and red interspersed with delicious varieties of chocolates and the words 'I Love You'.  Some sort of not human emotion overcame me and I was burdened with the desire to have a real Valentine's Day.

Translation: I was going to get excited to celebrate it.

I let hubby in on this little decision of mine and naturally he delivered with class.

Like I said, I've never been jilted on Valentine's Day.

Valentine's Day Eve I spent home sick.  That said, it was a nice pick me up to receive this early surprise of flowers.

Not to be misquoted from one of my beginning posts, I will remind you that flowers usually aren't the best way to my heart.  I am sadly prone to kill the beauties by mere neglect, yet, I do still fancy being sent flowers.

These were simply gorgeous.

I had an inkling that Valentine's Day would bring about more treats, and I was right.  Sherrie's Berries delivered a dozen gourmet chocolate covered strawberries to my door.

I think this summer I'm going to get creative with strawberries and chocolate.

Thank you Sherrie's Berries.

Thank you hubby.

Sorry thighs.

At this point, hubby had done so much to make my Valentine's as traditional yet also spectacular as possible.  He also was bringing home dinner.  I decided the best way I could contribute, and also get the whole excitement about Valentine's Day out of my system, was to make our dinner table look beautiful.

I pulled our unity candle out and as I was setting it up I had a wild idea.

I would use my china.

The china I've never used.

The china that sat stored away for five and half years of marriage, never seeing the light of day.

It was time.  I had waited long enough for notables of royalty, political value, or mere fame to drop by for a formal dinner.  It was time to use these settings on the one person who I want to share every meal with, ever.

Hubby.

Our very first Valentine's Day together, hubby made reservations at an Italian restaurant we both had been to before and enjoyed.  Despite our reservations, we arrived and stood waiting to be seated for at least two hours.

We've never  gone out on Valentine's Day since then.

Some years we went out to 'celebrate' on a day near Valentine's, others one cooked for the other, and this year hubby did what he did the first year we were married: 'To Go' ordering from LongHorn Steakhouse.

This is really the best option for those who don't want to cook and don't want to deal with the craziness of going to a restaurant on Valentine's Day.

Firecracker chicken wraps started our meal off.  My favorite part is dipping them in the avocado lime sauce that I clearly didn't picture.  It provides the perfect balance to the kick of spice in the wraps.

Since we're absolutely adorable as a couple, we split our meals so that we both could get the best of both worlds.  Flo's filet is my usual go to, and chicken tenders are hubby's.

The chicken tenders really are the best around.

But I could never order chicken tenders over a delicious filet.

For dessert, I forgot to mention another little treat that had been delivered with my chocolate covered strawberries: mini cheesecakes!

They were the perfect end to a perfect Valentine's Day.

And I promise, hubby and I  didn't eat all three that night.

#39 He Recognizes Valentine's Day for What it is--and spoils me regardless

I love my husband every day of the year.

We both choose spontaneous moments to show our love through food, love notes, food, gifts, and more food.

We both also have our share of authentic 'I love you' moments. These are moments when we are together doing something totally random like driving to Wawa at 11:38 pm and one of us blurts their declaration of love out nonsensically. And when asked in return, "Why?" we come up blank because it's almost impossible to put words to a feeling that bursts within just because your spouse doesn't think you are crazy for wanting a donut at 11:38 pm.

(And I often want donuts at 11:38 pm).

Valentine's Day is not among my favorites. In fact, I would ignore it completely if I didn't feel that by ignoring it everyone I know would look at me like I am a two-headed, heartless dragon who roams about the land feeding on hopeless romantics gushing over with sappiness.

Valentine's Day has always felt to me like a forced day, made to make people feel either that they need someone to love romantically or that they must overwhelm their lover with an abundance of cliche gifts in order to spell L-O-V-E.

Then the rest of the year love is hardly ever mentioned.

I know I'm loved, I feel it greatly, so I don't need this day.

But to save myself from the dragon persona, we celebrate.

When we first got married we set some Valentine's Day ground rules.

1. No presents, unless something strikes your fancy and you want to label it a "Valentine's Day gift" rather than a "Surprise, I love you, gift".
2. Every other year, you are responsible for dinner plans.

My favorite year so far was when it was Lance's first year to plan dinner. He said he would be cooking dinner, yet didn't show up home from work until 7:30 pm. Meanwhile, I had been ferociously roaming about the house (I'm a Valentine's Day dragon after all, I might as well roam about ferociously). I was so hungry that I was ready to kill the first living thing I saw and cook it up for dinner. He walked through the door, calm and relaxed, and told me to go upstairs.

I stomped my way upstairs, sure that I would not be eating until 9 pm, if then. Ten minutes later I was called downstairs to the dining room to come upon the realization that he had called ahead our dinner order at a local steakhouse and brought it home.

Life was good. Life was so good.

This year may have topped that experience.

Do you know the beauty of jumbo sized sea scallops?

Gaze upon it:

I never liked seafood before my husband. While I cannot say that I am an enthusiast today, I can say one thing, I love me some scallops. They are, to me, the filet minon of the sea.

And he bought and made them just for me.

I didn't mean to make those last two sentences rhyme, but they did, deal with it.

I requested the side dish when I knew he was making me scallops. See, the first time I had jumbo sea scallops was at a hibachi grill.

So naturally, I needed some hibachi grill-esque rice to go with:

De-lish.

This part was a surprise:

Crumbs cupcakes are gigantic and filled with delight. We first had them in NYC when we accidentally stumbled upon their shop. Actually, it was more like, we walked by, then retraced our steps backwards and had to wipe the drool off their window. Then, we proceeded to walk into the shop and buy all their cupcakes.

All in all, I'd say I had a fantabulous Valentine's Day, but then again, Saturday will be just as great. And so will Sunday....