Rather than give my dear husband a hard time when he forgets to give me anything for Valentines Day, because I do actually think it's a cheesy holiday, we've come across a far better tactic. We celebrate the day we met, February 11th which is close enough to Valentines Day that we will remember it each year but means that if we're going out to dinner that we're not going to be faced with hordes of other couples feeling obliged to do something romantic. Last night we went to a seriously delicious dinner at Buon Ricordo, which was appropriately Italian since that is where we met. Not that we could have afforded anything nearly this nice in those days, but as I remember it, everything I ate in Italy was divine regardless of the price.
Anyway, the food was absolutely beautiful, from the deep fried gamberetti to the orange tart I had for dessert. Unfortunately baby #2 is encroaching into my stomach space so I couldn't eat as much as I desired, but I still stuffed myself silly. As we left I was wondering about all of the patrons hovering around the laneway beside the restaurant when S informed me they were chauffeurs. A-ha, I thought, squeezing behind the wheel of our crumb-and-dog-hair-infested '97 Subaru. Who needs a chauffeur when you're the Designated Pregnant Driver anyway?
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