When people hear the name of my blog their faces immediately turn to that of sadness or glee. Sadness because they think my husband is dead or glee because they get it. Chef's Widow came about when the Chef & I were in Brooklyn. The Chef was heading up Symon's Parea and I was mommy to the sweetest one year old boy in the world. Because the Chef was opening the restaurant we literally saw him for two hours a week. Those two hours were spent in the restaurant on Saturday mornings. I would host & make rezzies, he would spend the morning with the boy, and later meet me at the restaurant when my shift ended and his began. During that time, the manager dubbed me the Chef's Widow. He said he had heard the term restaurant widow but thought Chef's Widow suited me better.
I tend to agree.
These days aren't nearly as bad or lonely as those days however we definitely don't get normal couple time. On the weekends I can barely check my facebook without being envious of those couples I know that are having dinner, seeing movies, or spending the night at home drinking wine and talking (ahem...talking). The Chef and I don't get those nights. We don't go on dates. We don't go out to dinner and we definitely don't drink wine and talk. Who has time for that anymore?
Lately I have been feeling the void. I have been missing the Chef. I have been missing the allure of romance. Basically I have been a super sappy why aren't you romantic anymore kind of mess. Our five year wedding anny is on the 27th and V-day was last week. The weeks prior I was a moping sap. Moping around, dropping hints that the Chef is no longer romantical with me. Being pretty lame was I (in yoda voice).
The day before Valentine's the Chef took the kids to TJ Maxx to pick up my present. While out he put this on FB:
Apparently he forgot that I'm on Facebook.
When he got home he was as giddy as a five year old at a candy store in anticipation of our Valentine's Day gift exchange. I thought he had lost it. We let the kids open there treats first and then it was my turn. I slowly opened the large box to find a small grey notebook. I opened the notebook to find a set of instructions telling me to pack a bag and be ready at a moment's notice to go. His words told me not to worry and trust him. Oh shite.
I was leery.
The Chef, a very talented man in the kitchen, may or may not be the best planner. His intentions, obviously beyond adorable, were born of love I know, but the whole me not knowing adventure thing really made me nervous. I am the planner in our relationship, the responsible one, the organized half. Being that I constantly worry about everything, I decided to say fuck it and go with the flow. I had been craving romance and that's just what the Chef was trying to give me.
Imagine my surprise this Friday morning when he grabbed my packed bag and told me we were ready to hit the road!
To be continued....