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Double Date
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Last night, in what may be The Varmint's and my last double date before we become a triple, we went out to a fancy dinner with friends Deb and Greg to Vagabond, a delicious new Frenchy / International restaurant and wine bar located in South Park.

The restaurant's achieved instant popularity and has an eclectic and devoted following of old-school San Diego locals. Vagabond's got a great menu - always with exciting new things to try. The food is fresh, and they even bring in international guest chefs to prepare specialties from around the world.

The vibe and scene is really fun. If you've ever been to a European cafe in France or Spain, this place will remind you of it. It's packed and animated with interesting characters; wine is the social lubricant of choice. When I say packed, I mean packed.

Last night, as I followed the dark, exotic-looking hostess with her bohemian chic attire, pale pale skin and china-blue eyes slinking to our table, I had to screech to a halt to calculate the miniscule width between tables vs. the girth of my black-and-white polka-dotted abdomen.

"Uhhm," I say recognizing my belly won't begin to make it between the narrow table paths, "I don't think we can eat here tonight if you guys are going to have to pass me, crowd-surfing style, to our table. I'm wearing a loose dress and big granny panties. Besides, the music's entirely inappropriate. We'd need some Primus or Firehose for me to feel comfortable with that." 

I pause to glare at Deb and Greg snickering behind me. They straighten up and feign innocence.

"Well, we can't hurt that baby," says a lady at one of the tables. She stands and pulls her chair in, which signals the rest of the folks along the path to our seats to stand up from their drinks and meals to do the same. The sea of humanity parts, allowing the She-Barge to cross the restaurant. I smile and thank everybody as I shuffle past and finally huff into my seat with an exhausted sigh. Deb and Greg and The Varmint are quivering with perspiration, trying not to burst into laughter, huge slap-happy grins uncontrollably plastered across their faces.

"OK," I say, "It was kinda funny."

At which point they explode. Isn't it great, I smile to myself while patting my stomach under the table, that this belly can also be a butt of a joke? Turns out there are some thiTamandDeb.jpgngs I am going to miss about being pregnant, and I'm surprised to admit that one is the sheer comedy of the proportions.

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I am a writer and lazy artist who loves travel, architecture and design. Right now, I'm into photography. My fabulous husband (a.k.a. The Varmint) and I are also the principals of a San Diego-based creative agency - and new parents to the divine Baby Mak. Read More >