A few weekends ago, to celebrate our birthdays, Jenny and I visited Santa Monica where we toured the Getty Villa, shopped on 3rd Street, and ate buttery croissants in the hotel beds. We also bar hopped through downtown Santa Monica, having a cocktail and appetizer at each of four bars, and I highly recommend this kind of fun when visiting a city. We started at an alehouse where we had wine and a goat cheese quesadilla, moved to a cafe where we had honey cocktails and spring rolls, then stopped in at an Irish pub for margaritas and ravioli (I have no idea...), and ended at a cheesy themed fish house for Irish coffees and cake.
Our husbands, jealous at all the fun that didn't include them, spent the weekend concocting their own plan to go golfing, eat burritos, and play tennis. The first weekend they were both available was Valentine's weekend and we, being the amazingly wonderful wives we are, encouraged them to just go ahead and book the trip despite the holiday (which was on Monday, anyway, so it's not like they'd be missing the actual day).
And, so, our husbands spent Valentine's weekend at a hotel on the beach. They played golf, went out for drinks, watched a college baseball game, played tennis, and ate at a seafood restaurant on the ocean. I think they even walked on the beach.
As they enjoyed some quality guy time (no doubt telling stupid guy jokes), Jenny and I got to thinking: they did leave us home on Valentine's weekend. So, despite the fact that their weekend away was in response to our weekend away, we should get another girls' weekend away, to even things out. Fair's fair.