Holy crap, a V-Day that doesn't suck. Will wonders never cease?
I considered a post that was all "Damn you George Newbern for having a successful career and being on television all the time! Yeccch!" and then noted that I recently had a dream where Scott made a cameo but had Rod Blagojevich's hair. But I'm going to talk about Valentine's Day instead.
I must say, first of all, that I looked extremely hot Saturday night. I should hope so, I groomed for most of the day. I have embraced big curly hair in a big way lately, because I have made it my goal to have Chaka Khan hair and embrace the Jew-fro instead of trying to look WASPy. So I had big curly hair and I finally found a fire-engine-red lipstick that doesn't go all hot pink on me, and I wore my beige-and-black jersey cocktail dress -- it's hard to describe, but there are these pleats that make my rack look amazing and it gives the illusion that my legs aren't short and stumpy. So yes, the grooming was good and when I got to Neil's and he got a look at me he was a little tongue-tied. I'd gotten him aftershave, which was a good call I think, and had come up with something for the card that was both sweet and true -- the standard Valentines sentiment is some iteration of "I love you," which isn't a place we're in. But "you're grand" is one I can definitely work with, and that was my theme.
Anyway, he gave me a dozen pink roses, which was well done, and then we went out to dinner. Dinner was uh-mazing -- we went to this place called Firefly, which has a living tree through the middle of the restaurant and a gourmet menu the likes of which I have rarely partaken of. Actually, the Valentine's menu is online, so I can tell you that we had truffled deviled egg with American caviar, sweet potato and squash bisque with curry oil and rogue smoked blue cheese (single best food item I have ever consumed, by the way), pot roast with yukon gold mashed potatoes and roasted shallot jus, and apple brown betty with mascapone-blackberry ice cream (OH MY GOD) and butterscotch sauce.
Excuse me, I must mop up some saliva.
Anywho, we went back to his place and played with Spartacus and watched American Zombie.
So yes, all in all a magnificent evening. The next day we had bagels and coffee and watched the Washington talk shows.
It's only my second Valentine's day actually celebrated, and there's no comparing the two obviously, but this one was entirely angst-free and grown up, which was wonderful and refreshing.
I must say, first of all, that I looked extremely hot Saturday night. I should hope so, I groomed for most of the day. I have embraced big curly hair in a big way lately, because I have made it my goal to have Chaka Khan hair and embrace the Jew-fro instead of trying to look WASPy. So I had big curly hair and I finally found a fire-engine-red lipstick that doesn't go all hot pink on me, and I wore my beige-and-black jersey cocktail dress -- it's hard to describe, but there are these pleats that make my rack look amazing and it gives the illusion that my legs aren't short and stumpy. So yes, the grooming was good and when I got to Neil's and he got a look at me he was a little tongue-tied. I'd gotten him aftershave, which was a good call I think, and had come up with something for the card that was both sweet and true -- the standard Valentines sentiment is some iteration of "I love you," which isn't a place we're in. But "you're grand" is one I can definitely work with, and that was my theme.
Anyway, he gave me a dozen pink roses, which was well done, and then we went out to dinner. Dinner was uh-mazing -- we went to this place called Firefly, which has a living tree through the middle of the restaurant and a gourmet menu the likes of which I have rarely partaken of. Actually, the Valentine's menu is online, so I can tell you that we had truffled deviled egg with American caviar, sweet potato and squash bisque with curry oil and rogue smoked blue cheese (single best food item I have ever consumed, by the way), pot roast with yukon gold mashed potatoes and roasted shallot jus, and apple brown betty with mascapone-blackberry ice cream (OH MY GOD) and butterscotch sauce.
Excuse me, I must mop up some saliva.
Anywho, we went back to his place and played with Spartacus and watched American Zombie.
So yes, all in all a magnificent evening. The next day we had bagels and coffee and watched the Washington talk shows.
It's only my second Valentine's day actually celebrated, and there's no comparing the two obviously, but this one was entirely angst-free and grown up, which was wonderful and refreshing.