My kind of romance.

Friday night, Mike and I went on a date to Midwest Grill, a Brazilian BBQ place down the street. Basically, it's a hot and cold buffet -- salad, rice, vegetables, etc. Then, cooks come around with skewers of meat that they slice onto your plate. We had lamb, bacon-wrapped chicken, pork, short ribs, garlic bread, and pineapple from skewers. I can't wait to bake pineapple with cinnamon on it; it was delicious.

Anyway, we decided to go for a walk to Harvard Square after dinner to help our bodies get into the digesting mood (and to ward off any food comas). It was chilly, and we walked half the way with our hands in our pockets. I noticed at some point that Mike had pulled out a pair of gloves from his pocket, and put one onto his right hand. Then he reached over and handed me the other glove to wear on my left hand while we held hands. Movies show diamonds and flowers, chocolates and grand gestures, but I love simpler flavors of romance.