Why do we like nuts in our desserts after 35? What's that about? I remember deep bewilderment as a kid when I saw adults put walnuts in their brownies. Why would you sully perfection? I get it now, and I don't understand why.
Here's a photo from Halee's bridal shower earlier this month. Gigs and Dave put together the most beautiful, cheerful, lemon-themed celebration in preparation for the Big Italian Wedding. Just moments before this picture was taken I accidentally dumped my drink down Mom's back. It's Margie's fault - she hit my arm. I stand by it!
Why do men put their wallet and their keys in their pockets as soon as they wake up in the morning, even when they have no plans to go anywhere? Every morning I watch from my pillow as Brett pulls on his britches and slips a wallet into his back pocket, keys in the front, only to go make a cup of coffee and sit at his desk. Sometimes he takes the wallet out of his pocket and puts it on the table next to his desk, but usually not. The wallet comes out of his pants pocket after dinner, sometimes even later, like bedtime. It just rides around in there all day for no reason. The keys come and go throughout the day - which is why he usually can't find them. He also keeps a knife in his pants all day, and while that makes more sense to me than the wallet, it's significantly more uncomfortable. I know this because I get jabbed with it anytime I sit next to him or give him a hug. Being that he works from home, there is an abundance of knifes and scissors (and saws and yard utensils) at arms length at any moment, so I don't understand why you would keep a real live knife in your pants. I know lots of dudes carry things in their pockets all day, but my dad has always kept his crap in a bowl by the door for when he needs to leave the home-base of inventory, and that just seems much more sensible.
Here I snuck a picture of this cute guest-lecturer that gave me a personal presentation on high-severity situations, critical security emergencies, and assorted safety assessment hubbub when it comes to structural failure after natural disasters. Brett is teaching a course on this soon and I have the distinct pleasure of being the practice audience.
(That's only lightly sarcastic. I don't really mind, but it does make me sleepy.)
Isn't it wild that humans routinely wander into restaurants we've never heard of and let people we've never met make food for us, and then we just eat it? I only had this thought last month when Brett and I spotted a taco spot we've never noticed. We had gone Downtown to get ice cream for dinner but when we saw the taco place we said, "If we eat a taco first, we can pretend that's dinner and then we will have earned the ice cream." as well as, "I could go for a taco!" So Pips and I waited outside while Brett went into get 'dinner'.
I unfurled the paper wrapper and peered into what was the only "vegetarian" taco on their menu. It looked...wet. "So what is it?" I asked Brett as he took a bite of his easily identifiable pulled pork.
"It said onions... and potatoes... I can't really remember."
I ate it, because that's what people do, but I never noticed any potatoes and it had an overall flavor to it that can be best describe as 'verdant.' My brain whispered a gentle suggestion of food poisoning, just so I could be aware that any doom I might experience would be self-inflicted. This is when it occurred to me that we all just trust people to do right in their kitchens. I said as much to Brett who momentarily reassessed his taco and said, "Yeah. It is crazy," and then inhaled his final bite.
We both had stomachaches all night and we don't know whether to blame the tacos or the ice cream. My vote is the wet grass taco.
Brett says I sit and lay in "crash victim" positions. I didn't get it until I saw this.
Is the sky as high as the ocean is deep and our lives are just a smear of butter between two slices of bread?
Mom and Dad left for a brief Honbon Reunion (HonUnion) so Beans and I got some quality time. Her enthusiasm about life had me in stitches. I've never met a dog so earnest.
In other news, it has become delightful outside with the caveat of the drifting yellow dust that irritates throats, eyes, and nasal passages. Small price, if you ask me. Brett has been in a duel with the pollen, neither of them ever gaining ground on the other, leaving both parties in a state of malaise and ennui. Brett gurgles and hacks, but to no tangible effect. The pollen gets wiped away only to return a few days later. We know the pollen will lose the war but at the moment, the battle is at a stalemate.
The flowers are blooming and the pups are out frolicking in the neighborhood. I have been enjoying the annual "I didn't know you lived here" experience, when all of the neighbors without dogs or exercise regimens come out of their houses to enjoy the nice weather for a few weeks before it gets too hot. Then they will all recoil back into their homes and we won't really see them again until next Spring, leading us to spot them through our windows and say, "Who is that? I've never seen them before."
I've been helping Ellie frame and pack her Etsy orders as she prepares for a trip to Ireland. April and May are busy months for her shop so she's working ahead to clear out the orders before she leaves. I go over and pack for four or five hours three days a week, and still never make it to the end of the orders for the day. Last week, I clocked in and found this. Am I lucky or what?
In celebration of his 60th birthday, our favorite neighbors Jim and Kim (the ones who helped me chase the pig I bought off Craigslist) had a big, backyard celebration. That party proved that turning 60 doesn't have to be any different from turning 20. There were oysters and hotdogs, cake and beer, beer-pong and piñatas - all the classics of young person celebrations. Jim disappeared into the house and came back out giggling in his dress blues. (They were a little tight.) His friends were rowdy partiers and two of Jim's sons arrived with their own entourages. And while Brett and I left around 10, the party raged on. When we saw Jim the next morning, he had a black-eye and a huge grin. "I think it's awesome," he said, "Who gets a black eye at thier 60th birthday party?" He told us he ran into some furniture, but when Kim joined the conversation she said, "What did you tell them happened to your eye?"
Here we are with the two of them.... long before Jim took a tumble going to the bathroom.
I spent most of my party time talking at our across-the-street-neighbors. I say talking at because they are such polite listeners that you can't really tell if they want you to leave them alone or not. Additionally, Nick there on the left, kept egging me on by asking questions and being engaged in my rantings, so I couldn't exactly stop and run off.
But when they left for the night, Brett said, "Oh, I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to talk to you." and Mrs. Cassandra said, "Don't worry, Laura talked for the both of you."
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