Anniversary

What a wonderful anniversary we had! We celebrated a couple of days ago - my husband took the day off work and we left our daughter with her grandparents overnight. My husband insisted on surprising me, which normally I hate ("Surprise! We're going on a picnic and hike in the woods today!" or, "Surprise! I caught four frogs at the lake while I was fishing and I'm bringing them home to keep as pets!"), but these surprises were all good and did not involve anything unpleasant for me down the line. The first surprise was a sushi lunch at Nijo Sushi off of Post Alley. I know I've been yammering on about the sushi lately, but I've really only eaten it about three times since I got pregnant. And this sushi was amazing! When we go out, it's usually in West Seattle, so we go to sushi at Azuma because it's a great old local standby. But WOW - what a difference a venture out across the bay can make! I thought Nijo's rainbow roll was one of the best I've ever had, and we got some super-fresh bluefin nigiri that was out of this world. Oooh, we also had some wasabi bloody marys that were awesome (mine sans vodka, of course, but I find that a virgin bloody mary can still be quite enjoyable). And we sat at the BAR like grown-ups - that's always a treat.

Then we wandered up the way to The Spanish Table, where I've always wanted to go. After much time spent living in Spain, I am a huge Spain-o-phile, particularly when it comes to the cuisine. Many Americans don't go for the Spanish food as much as the Italian or the French - maybe because it seems heavy on the olive oil and potatoes - but man, can they do some things with olive oil and potatoes! And ham and fish and cheese and fava beans. And coffee, as my husband can well attest. Anyway, the Spanish Table is faboo - it's got almost everything you need to recreate most any of your favorite Spanish dishes, and lots of fresh Spanish cheese and ham choices. Oh - and the wine selection is outstanding (not that I could partake). I did wish that they had a little counter where they turned out cafes con leche to enjoy while you browse, so I could be 100% transported back, but I guess you have to buy a plane ticket for that. Ah well, someday again . . .

We poked around Pike Place Market for a bit. What a zoo. I wondered how many actual Seattleites were hanging out there, aside from the vendors. We got our doughnuts from that great doughnut hole stand, some cheese from Beechers, and a tea sample from Market Spice, then pretty much got the hell out of there. It's not much fun to be a foodie and be in your first trimester of pregnancy. You want to go and look at all the fresh meat and fish in the cases and wax and think about how you would prepare it all, but the combination of sights and intense odors at the Market can be overwhelming. I needed out.

We took off and headed for our next surprise; the hotel. My husband had booked us a room at . . . tah-dah! The Sorrento Hotel! What a joint! I felt like Little Orphan Annie on her first day at Daddy Warbucks' mansion pulling into that grand circular drive. They knew it was our anniversary, so they upgraded us to the penthouse even though we had just reserved a standard room. They also provided a complimentary bottle of champagne (read: sparkling apple cider) and a cheese and fruit plate to our room. I lazed around on the king-sized bed with the 450 thread-count sheets and ate and drank and felt like a queen. That is my kind of place, let me tell you. I love an historic hotel that is elegant and quiet and reserved, but not at all snooty (well, maybe just a little bit snooty, but not so you feel like a cad walking around the place). I also want to just brag a little more and mention that my husband arranged to have a beautiful bouquet of flowers brought up to the room for me when we arrived. Oh yeah - he is gooood.

For dinner we went to a wonderful restaurant in Belltown called Marjorie. It was a very cozy space with eclectic yet nicely-prepared food. We had the chef's sampler menu, which we always seem to do on our anniversary (we have not been disappointed yet!), and it was all delicious. I especially loved the cold heirloom tomato soup with salmon tartare, and my husband loved the shrimp with grits and a soft-boiled egg. I did crack up, though, when as a third course the waiter brought us a tiny dish each of raspberry-lemon sorbet, and my husband started scowling and getting very anxious because he thought that this was dessert and that was all we were going to get. It turned out to be some kind of amuse bouche, palate cleanser thing before the entree, but it was very funny to watch my husband sweat and try to figure out how he was going to handle the situation. Men . . .

In all, a landmark anniversary. Thank you so much, Daddy. And thanks to Grandma who took the baby for the afternoon and evening and essentially erased all of our worries for about 20 hours - what a treat! Everyone should be so lucky to have a day like this, to be reminded of how special their partner is and how special they are to that person. It is a rare treat these days to look into the eyes of the man I married and talk about things like the future and our dreams and how we're really doing these days. The answer is, blessedly, just great.

Cinderella

We picked up a bunch of VHS tapes of Disney movies at garage sales lately. What a score! It seems that we're the only family left in West Seattle with a VCR, but hey, that works for me. I love that I can pop in "Babe" or "The Lion King" or "Mary Poppins" at a moment's notice and have my daughter transfixed for a few golden moments while I do something like, say, go eat some Lorna Doone cookies.

That damned Lorna Doone! She's always in my thoughts lately, with her buttery shortbread goodness and instant hit of comfort to my stoic Scottish soul. If I don't slow down with her I may well exceed my 2-8 pounds' allotted weight gain in the first trimester which, honestly, I do not need to do this time around. Dammit! She's the best thing going since the Girl Scouts went away with their Trefoils last spring, though. Maybe I've accidentally discovered that hydrogenated cottonseed oil is the cure for nausea.

And Disney movies for me are a good way to make those big fat pregnancy tears fall down my cookie crumb-dusted cheeks. Good Lord - the opening sequence of "Lion King" never fails to leave me bawling. All that stuff about the zebras and the elephants (oh God, the elephants - one look at an elephant, especially a Disney-animated one, and I am a mess) and the circle of life makes me just whimper with joy and angst for the plight of those fictional animals.

This morning we watched a little bit of "Cinderella." The angry feminist in me was dreading the moment my daughter laid eyes on this film, the ruin of all girls' ideas about success and happiness in life, right? But oh, what a story! The ultimate makeover movie, really - Cinderella and that fairy godmother of hers sure showed those bitchy stepsisters who was really hot. And oh yeah - she gets the prince, too. I think there is some good to this story, if you really watch the movie again. There is nothing wrong with really, really wanting to go to a super-fun party at the big castle and looking awesome. And it's not as if Cinderella is some total dunce in the meantime. She does talk to the animals, after all (you don't just learn that overnight!), and she's taught herself how to sing very well and seems to have very good manners and a positive outlook in spite of her circumstances. She deserves to have a great time once in a while, I think. So she is the prettiest one at the ball - someone has to be! Are we always going to hate that girl, or are we going to applaud her for getting her whole package together quite well? I say congrats, Cindy! You're a gem!

This brings me to my own love life. Or my married love life. I believe that, ultimately, I have been very lucky in love. This is why it is also difficult for me to be so cynical about love stories. I dated a lot of guys before I met my husband. I was "trying on" lots of different styles of guys. Wait - that doesn't sound right. I was trying out different personas, perhaps, through the guys I dated. Which I'm not sure says a lot about my aspirations for myself in my early twenties. I dated mostly cooks and musicians (bassists), though there were one or two trust fund babies thrown in there so I could get some cool jewelry and nice dinners out. Let's be honest. I dated a black guy who was way into Steely Dan - very strange. The last guy I dated was an ex-Marine who had a rockin' bod and was a yummy mixture of Portugese, Japanese, and Puerto Rican, but was also, as it turned out, a great big homophobe. So that was it for him - yuck.

And then I met the one. I will spare you the details (people really should more often about these sorts of things, I think), but the bottom line is that we clicked. Just like I had always heard it was supposed to happen. I started talking to him, and he was talking, too, and we were listening intently to one another and we didn't want the conversation to end. We must have had about fifteen cups of coffee between us on that day, and he kept getting up to pee about every five minutes. He wore a silly trucker's cap on top of his head and his jeans sagging down his bottom and he was somewhat tattooed (enough that my dad, who answered the door, kept looking at me sideways and swallowing like he was either going to cry or crack up). He smoked the same cigarettes as I did and thought I was very interesting, and more importantly, he remembered what I said and thought about it and commented on it at a later time. It honestly was like I had always known him.

There were many hurdles to get over, not the least of which were law school in another city for me, the bar exam, and his penchant for late nights of role-playing video games with his geek-o friends. But we always came back to each other, because we always had to. For me it was like finding a long-lost close family member - you say, "Oh! This is the part of my heart that has been missing all along, even though I didn't know it was missing!" I love my husband with all of my heart. He is my heart. And the two babies we have made are my heart too. I never knew I could have so much love, and it only feels like there is more to come.

Next week my husband and I celebrate four years of marriage. I want you to know, love, that you're never getting rid of me. I have settled into this with you and it feels right as rain and you're it. You make me so happy and so sad and you make me just live my life to its fullest. Thank you for all of your gifts to me - I only hope I can share half as many with you. I love you!