Debbie and I have been married for almost 27 years. At this point, I'm a fairly well-trained husband when it comes to Valentine's Day – I know that if I don't come up with some hugs, kisses, whispered sweet nothings, a nice box of candy and some flowers, I'm a dead man (or will wish I was). I've also learned that I should expect the day to be all about the woman in my life, and not about me. And that's ok with me, because I've never had any particular expectations of the day.
So I was very surprised when I arrived home on Valentine's Day. First of all, the day was dramatic: it was snowing as I pulled into the driveway, and a blanket of white covered our house and yard. But when I walked in the door, I saw a spectacularly set table, with a bottle of champagne icing, rose petals strewn over the table cloth (I'm serious!), and a beautiful appetizer of fresh mozzerella, basil, and tomatoes – and a loaf of potato rosemary bread, with olive oil and basalmic vinegar. On our woodstove was a gigantic bouquet of fresh flowers, with some especially beautiful red gladiolas. Wow!
And it got even better. I had stopped at a fish market to get some fresh scallops, and Debbie made her signature broiled scallop appetizer, which we ate along with steamed young asparagus. And as if that wasn't enough, she made a spectacular bread pudding, all custardy on the inside and covered with a crust of pecans, brown sugar, and cinnamon. Double wow!
I suspect this may be a once-in-twenty-years sort of event, but if not I might learn to actually look forward to Valentine's Day!
