The New York winter (MP3 link) has finally arrived with a vengeance, and it's played havoc with Valentine's Day.
FTD delivered two dozen red roses--a day early--to my true love. They were frozen and irreparably damaged. (sigh)
I get full marks from the spouse for "it's the thought that counts," I suppose, and once I got someone on the phone (not easy, as it involved calling their headquarters in Downers Grove, Illinois... no one was answering the customer service phones yesterday, and forget about e-mail) FTD fairly cheerfully refunded my money, but dead flowers on Valentine's Day? Damn.
We trudged through the cold and snow last night to have Valentine's Day supper at Fig and Olive, which more than made up for some freezer-burned flowers. The VD prix-fixe dinner included an asparagus terrine, a choice of carpaccios (portobello mushroom, tuna or beef) and sole papillote or filet mignon. It was a nearly perfect dinner, and after three glasses of wine we were bracing for dessert...
...when a late-arriving couple was seated quite close to us, the woman drenched in what was no doubt a very expensive but absolutely cloying perfume.
After ten years together, in situations like this, we don't even have to speak. Carrie and I locked eyes, I nodded and signaled for the check. We'll be skipping dessert and coffee, thanks.
I'd rather try to eat next to someone smoking a cheap cigar, or even incessantly farting, than deal with someone wearing that much scent. Why the hell do people go out in public like this?
If the place hadn't been so packed, we would have asked to be reseated. As it was, we hurriedly collected our coats and laughed all the way home.