Happy Valentine's Day to you, too

It started out well: I decided to bake J.R. cookies with kisses for Valentine's Day. I was totally inspired by Slice of Pink and the Pioneer Woman with their promises of ease of cooking and delish of eating. Plus, J.R. and I had decided not to buy each other presents, but I wanted to get him something anyway, and flowers just didn't seem right. Aha! I shall bake! Or pseudo-bake. Whatever. Anyway, pretty and delicious cookies ensued, and all was right with the Valentine's world.

Then J.R. came home, and since we had a late dinner reservation, we went to play a little pool beforehand. And I sucked. I mean, more than usual. I tried not to take it out on J.R., but he was there. And he wasn't sucking, too, so what could I do? We progressed to dinner, as J.R. had made reservations at an allegedly not-too-fancy place. (I think we all know how I do with the fancy.) However, the 35th Street Bistro had a special Valentine's Day menu. And that's all they had. And when I saw the duck, lobster, and other ick listed, I tried to control my "oh, no" face, but J.R. saw anyway. He being the excellent boyfriend that he is, offered to leave -- and god help me, but I took him up on it. The only thing I could see that I liked was dessert.

And then the odyssey for available food began -- because now it was a really late dinner, and I was wicked hungry. (I actually blame the bad pool on the hunger.) We tried Roxy's -- closed. Jillian's? Packed. I was ready to go to McDonald's, but J.R. insisted we try 13 Coins first, and thankfully, we could eat in the lounge right away. And they had normal food. And it was yummy. Plus, there was a really good singer for entertainment, and the lighting in the bathroom made me look good and not like a starved, crazed lunatic. And then there was fried ice cream for dessert.

Best Valentine's Day ever.