that's amore (m)

What we do for love.  

Yesterday, we stood in the blustery winds and shade to watch a marathon (almost 3-hour) baseball game.  Almost twice as long as a regular game.  My toes were blue and while my red DKNY red nylon jacket looked stylish, it offered no protection from the wind and chill.  By the interminably long 4th inning, I ate my only snack...the 1-point chocolate pretzel bar that Lyn turned me onto.  They are so good, I have a hard time keeping them away from the rest of the family. 

Seventh inning...someone opens up a box of gourmet cookies...chocolate chip, oatmeal raisin, peanut butter.  I had to leave the stands and walk around so I wouldn't indulge.

The game....the sports equivalent of War and Peace...finally ends and we follow Sam's team van back to their condos.  The good news is there is no game on Friday and we get to take Sam back to Tampa with us.

It's 9:15 p.m. and we are free to have dinner.  We haven't eaten since noon.  Sam wants Italian.  I know there will be temptations and pitfalls, but we are here for him and he's been eating pizza and cereal all week (except for when we took the team to The Outback Steakhouse).  We get back to Harbour Island where we are staying.  My husband remembers there was an Italian restaurant near the hotel.

We get to the restaurant and the place looks and smells incredibly good.  I peruse the menu and find a couple of things I can eat and about a hundred things I want to eat.  It will be hard to stay in control here, but it's a small sacrifice to make when I see Sam's eyes light up as he finds several of his favorite things in the world on the menu (tomato and mozzarella salad, bruschetta, gnocchi al freddo).

I look at the menu again and something catches my eye.

The name of the restaurant:  That's Amore!

That's love....as in what we do for love.