The Garden Cafe continues to meet or exceed our rather middling expectations, while the other restaurants consistently disappoint. My meal tonight at the Venetian was typical; I started with President Reagan's Gruyére Fondue Crepes, which were strangely breaded and fried, and lacking the strong, salty flavor I associate with Gruyére. For an entree I had the Cooking Light vegetarian option, a Vidalia Onion Risotto with Feta Cheese. Again, the presentation was odd; the risotto was garnished with red onions, not Vidalias. I ended up being thankful for those red onions, however, as they were the only things that gave the dish any flavor at all. Once I'd eaten a small forkful of rice and a cube of feta cheese with each ring, I stopped, leaving 80% of my dish untouched. The waiter noticed and offered me a different entree, but the only other option for me was the sea bass, which Al had. He declared it, "no too bad," but to me it was just as bland as the risotto. I said I'd wait for dessert.

Dessert was worthwhile—a plum cake whose only flaw was that it could have used more plums—with a rather tasty cup or two of rich decaf coffee. Afterwards we ended up going up to the Garden Cafe just to see what the Mexican Buffet offered, and we found a couple treats worth making room for. The rhubarb cobbler I'd had for dessert at Salsa was available with a vanilla sauce, and it was wonderful. YUM. Al got a couple pork ribs and some chips and salsa (the salsa, he reported, was better than what was available at the restaurant of the same name).

Earlier today, when we returned from the Miami bus tour (which we both thought was great—especially the stop at the Versailles Bakery), Al went swimming in the Oasis pool while I rested. We then had afternoon snacks (a late lunch, really, since we'd missed ours due to the tour) at the Garden Cafe, after which I completely conked out for about two hours. I think I'm more prone to heat exhaustion now that I'm pregnant. Anyway, I had lots of vivid dreams while napping, including one in which I met the baby. My sister wheeled him out of the delivery room and announced his arrival. I looked over and said, "I know, I was in the delivery room... virtually." It sounded stupid even as I said it, but while I knew I had to have been there in order to give birth, I couldn't remember the labor or delivery. "Virtually" was my odd explanation. Even weirder, I think the baby was a girl, and I know I'm having a boy. I can't be sure about that now, though...