Today John and I celebrated our 14th anniversary. Our day was about like normal; he went off to work in the morning and I headed into town for an audition via the subway. When I got back from the audition, I worked in the garden all afternoon until I was a sweaty, disgusting mess; he was stuck in the office until six.

This evening, though, belonged to us. When John got home from work, we did our usual comparison of notes (“what did you do today?”) and then opened anniversary cards. We agreed this year that we wouldn’t exchange gifts because we’re taking a three-week cross-country vacation in June (John was also absolved from gift-giving for my birthday tomorrow, for the same reason). However, John did make reservations for dinner at Da Domenico, an Italian restaurant in Tysons Corners, so we made ourselves presentable and headed out to make our fashionable eight o’clock reservation.

We were a bit disappointed that all the banquettes at the restaurant were already occupied; there’s something ever so romantic about a banquette, particularly ones with curtains you can draw to close yourselves off even further. However, our table was just fine and we had a charming waiter (plus the maitre ‘D came by and told us a hoary old joke, which was fun). We decided on a bottle of chianti to go with our dinners; there was a slight hitch when the first bottle tasted a bit off, but the waiter whisked away the offending bottle and brought us another, which was fine. We shared a succulent appetizer of cantaloupe wrapped in prosciutto, and for our entrees John had the restaurant’s signature veal chop (with a wonderful artichoke gratin) and I had a seafood linguine. Both were delicious; my only error was in wearing a brand-new white tank top, which of course got a light freckling of tomato sauce. That is why I’m in such a peculiar pose in this photo, which our waiter was kind enough to take for us – I’m hiding my stained top. Thank goodness the lights were low.

Of course, after all that food and wine, we HAD to have dessert – I had tiramisu and John had a creme brulee. Delicious. I also had a cappuccino.

In another part of the restaurant we could hear the maitre ‘D singing with gusto; there was applause and I was a bit jealous that all we got was a joke about Moses and President Bush while someone else got Italian opera. Clearly, we will have to go back and make certain we get both a banquette and some opera.

So all in all it was a pleasant evening; we came home and changed clothes (my stained top got Oxy’d and thrown right into the wash). John’s in front of the TV and I’m about to join him. And that, for me, is the perfect end to a wonderful anniversary.