Date Night? Actually, I Prefer Figs.

The other night The Queen Mother and I found ourselves in possession of an expiring Groupon for one of your finer dining establishments in downtown Minneapolis.  For those of you unfamiliar with the Groupon concept, it is a discount coupon that you purchase, then forget you own until it expires in 45 minutes, at which time you scramble around and rework your entire life so you can redeem it and save the $17 you had so coveted six months earlier. 

This particular Groupon was for one of the more trendy Minneapolis eateries, and by ‘trendy’ I mean to say we were among the most heterosexual of patrons.  The idea was to have a nice half-price dinner for two, then meet our various offspring for an ice-cream chaser all for under $40.  We were even being so economical as to opt to drive our 20-year-old puddle jumper as opposed to our planet-killing gas-guzzling SUV, which in a politically correct nod to the Sierra Club we affectionately refer to as “The Axles of Evil.” Continue reading