Ever since I got pregnant* food has been a tough subject. The first three months I basically survived on Honey Nut Cheerios. Now I find I have some interest in food, but it's definitely quirky. So tonight when we went to the fabulous Metro 29 Diner in Arlington, I wanted a Belgian waffle in the worst way. Once we ordered, I had a moment of regret wondering if I should have ordered the easier to accomplish pancakes. I even imagined how I might cautiously request that an undercooked waffle might be cooked to golden crispy perfection. But I was delighted when a picture-perfect waffle arrived at our table. "I love this place," I told Jac.
*Oh, did I fail to mention that? It's a boy! And he'll be here in September. Over. The. Moon.
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