I have Michael Buble's "Home" on my playlist. I told Kissiffer the other day, "Hmmm, this wouldn't be your song to me--your song would be 'Another fun day, Another day away, I don't wanna go home..." and he stopped what he was doing and looked at me in all seriousness and said, "No, you are wrong, I often think of this song and it is my song to you."

"Oh really," I replied. "So all these girls coming up to you in hotel lobbies saying, 'Omigawd, are you really THE Christopher?' and you wouldn't be like, 'My wife, who?'"

He looked thoughtful for a moment and then said, "No, I would be so sad. I just say to them 'I want to go home' in fact I would start singing that song right there in front of them and they would probably say, 'Omigawd what a freak!' and I would keep singing it all the way up to the hotel room to call you." I just laughed and laughed because he can always do that to me--make me laugh whenever I'm feeling a little "less than".

Last year when Russell Crowe was arrested for clobbering a hotel clerk with a phone Kissiffer nodded knowingly and said, "I would have done no less, the man was trying to call his wife at the end of a long night to tell her he was back in his room, alone, not in some bar, not with some girl. He probably told her would be calling at a certain time and was enraged that he couldn't because then she would be thinking he was out carousing." Well, huh, I hadn't thought of it that way and I appreciated that point of view, and thought it was cute that my hubby would gladly incur assault charges to call me when he said he would...and I thought at the end of the ordeal Mr. Crowe certainly got the message to his wife without calling her--that he was alone and despearately wanted to call when he said he would, kind of romantic in a sort of dysfunctional way...

Last night we went to the Lenox Room and ordered nothing but appetizers (shrimp spring rolls, an Artisinal cheese plate with apples and walnuts, Foie gras with toast points and raspberry jam and shrimp cocktail) and dessert (creme caramel) with a couple of salt rimmed mojitos to toast with and wash it all down. It hardly seems like four years since Kissiffer made me hie bride. He sent me a dozen long stemmed roses at work and when my 24- four-year-old cubemate asked me how long we've been married and I told her she said, "Oh my God you've been married forever!" Funny, because truly I really can't ever remember not being with my husband. Sheena also sent along a delish box of pastries and cookies from a local bakery, not only is she a great sister but she's still doing her job as Maid of Honor as well!

The city is overrun with men and women in white uniforms thanks to Fleet Week! On Thursday while in Times Square (on my way to dinner at Dopo-- thanks Ang! More on that later) I literally ran into three separate sailors. They were all gazing up, or confusedly looking about or one, simply trying to follow the sailor in front of him but getting separated by a crossing mob of pedestrians and wandering right into my mission fueled path--I was hungry and not stopping for anything. All I could think as I passed most of them was, "Ye gads they look soooo young!"

Dinner was a treat sort of--Ang's treat anyhow, and even more so because when I didn't really like my ordered entree (gnocchi with lobster sauce) she let me nosh off hers (and I also had a bit of Kissiffer's delish lasagne, but he didn't really have a choice in the matter, you know, what's mine is yours and all that).

I had high hopes for desert and even ordered the chocolate mousse--A TRAVESTY I TELL YOU! It said "chocolate mousse" but what came to the table was no scrumptious, fluffy chocolate in a dish or cup but a slice of chocolate cake. I have nothing against chocolate cake, but when you're in the mood for mousse, it just doesn't cut it. So Ang once again offered to share her scrum-diddly-umptious warm molten chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream. It was made with bittersweet chocolate...heaven! So I must thank Ang for dinner...and even more for sharing her dinner. I even took some of her food home for lunch the next day, despite the waiter's best efforts. I asked the man to wrap it up for me and he said, "No, just eat it." So then I made Kissiffer ask him to wrap it up and the waiter begrudingly agreed. I ate the penne and "bolonayzee" (as Kissiffer says) cold for lunch the next day. YUM.

No alligator on a stick! This was the first year I brought a camera to get a pic of it and it was the first time it wasn't there. Otherwise, a good time was had by all. Cuban empanadas, key lime pie, samosas, filipino rice, thai veggie rolls and hand made tamales! Yum, yum yum. Oy vey--Bally's here I come!

We went to Anthropolgie to get a birthday gift. I took a quick look at the sales rack while were were there and spotted a skirt. It was lovely, multi- colored and beautiful, with silky soft and shiny fabric. I so often flipped through the Anthropologie catalog and I want to live there--in that world of shabby chic and 1950's inspired dressing. But I don't, I live in Gotham in a shabby and not to chic apartment.

Our world is filled with discussions about down payments and savings, so I knew, I didn't need another skirt even if it was marked down 80%. Even if it was Anthropologie. So I passed on it, but I wanted it...

A week later...

After a busy day at work, Kissiffer met me on the Westside so we could walk home through the park together. As soon as we got home I was flitting around trying to make dinner. He stood in the way and held out a small bag, I saw the delicate Anthropologie insignia just below the red handles, at the the top of the pristine white sack.
"What's this?"
"For you."
I pulled out the tissue wrapped bundle and saw the jewel tone colors of the skirt and squealed. There were actually two skirts, because he wasn't sure of my size, but what mattered is that he even thought of it. And that's what was best of all, just being thought of.