Ramona lives

I guess it's time for another wrap-up. On Friday night, we had a fancy dinner ... my boyfriend had steak and I had the bouillabaisse, which contained basically every seafood known to man. My favorite thing was the spicy shrimp napoleon, which was fried mirliton slices stacked with shrimp remoulade. We had two somewhat frightening parade route crosses to make on foot for the sake of this meal, but it was worth it. We exchanged Valentine's Day gifts after dinner, and I love my Everwood CD, chocolates (so far I've tasted the excellent tarragon grapefruit and the lavendar vanilla), and earrings.

We got up Saturday morning and decided to keep eating ... he had a giant chicken salad sandwich on focaccia and I had grits, scrambled eggs, and onion biscuits. Eventually we headed to the park for our last! long! run! of half-marathon training. I never really got into this run even though I really love the park. It was supposed to be 8 miles, but I only made it to about seven. He ran almost 13, for the love of heaven. I don't know if it was the cloudy day, the strong wind, or just the feeling I've decided I don't like of running in a giant circle around a track, but I did not feel strong at all and never really hit my normal rhythm and stride, turtle-like as they may be. But I survived, despite a strange altercation during our post-run stretching session with Mardi Gras revelers doing drunken, shirtless pull-ups nearby.

As for the running training, I am under no delusion that I am actually ready to run a half-marathon. I'm as ready as I'll ever be, though, and I'm just going to face the music. We drove over the overpass that we'll cross twice on race day, and I felt a little faint as I realized how steep it is. But whatever! I'll just cross that bridge (literally) when I come to it. I will say that I wish that my friends were still coming for the race, and I hope they'll come next year!

After running, we hobbled to Starbucks and then home. Soon enough it was time for dinner, so we headed to La Vita, the new place where Gabrielle used to be, and while the food was pretty good -- chicken pesto pizza for him, linguine in marinara sauce with shrimp for me, along with some bruschetta -- the service was so preposterously bad that it was laughable. We got our appetizer before we got our drinks (not exactly complicated -- sprite and root beer), and the couple near us got their ENTREES before they got theirs. On the menu, it said you got one refill on your soda, so the waitress brought one to my boyfriend when he'd finished his, but she just took my glass away and never brought another one. One waiter knocked a bottle of red wine into the lap of an older gentleman diner, and no one even seemed to care. No waiters or managers came over to assist, no one offered additional napkins or soda water or anything -- and finally he and his wife just left in disgust. It was bizarre. I wondered if we might be on candid camera. It's really a shame, and I hope they can turn it around, because like I said, the food was yummy.

We knew better than to attempt a dessert order at that establishment, so we headed to our favorite dessert place, which was closed for Mardi Gras. So we saw no other option than to go to the supermarket and buy a pint of ice cream for each of us. (Ben & Jerry's Mint Chocolate Cookie for me, Haagen Dazs Exta Rich Light Coffee for him.)

My product recommendation of the day: fleece sheets. They are very soft and warm. But make sure you use an extra fabric softener sheet or two in the dryer as they are prone to sparky static.

Let's see, what else? We watched American Experience, and it was a little bit disappointing. While it had some great stuff about the early years of the city, I guess I thought it would focus on that and be more of an archival, historical sort of documentary instead of a bunch of creative types waxing poetic about the magical, mystical, mysterious New Orleans. Some of it was just eye-rollingly trite. I still recommend the show, but I think I confused American Experience with American Masters, which is a freaking amazing show in terms of power and quality -- every one I've seen has blown me away, particularly the episodes on Robert Capa and Eugene O'Neill.

I was very struck by this entry by Andrea. I think it would be a good idea for me to think about how I can put some things in my life on P. Not that my life is so complicated or difficult, but there are probably things that I make more complicated than they need to be, even if it's just mentally/emotionally more than practically. Andrea is wise.

Because my friend recently saw Half Nelson and has been seized by Goslingitis, I brought Chinese food and The Notebook over to her house on Sunday night. We all dug into cashew shrimp, sesame chicken, vegetable fried rice, and egg rolls, and as we wept and wailed loudly at the end of the movie, her three-year-old jumped on top of her, clutched her face in her hands, and consoled her with great vehemence: "It's okay, Mommy. It's OKAY." I have decided that three-year-olds are the most awesome creatures on earth, especially when they do things like try to fake cry and then burst out laughing, recite the Pledge of Allegiance, sound out words and ecstatically shout out the letter when they figure out what it starts with, perform the entire refrain to "Amie" by Pure Prairie League, and have the same haircut as Ramona Geraldine Quimby.