Today I am contributing my mother’s peanutbutter roast along with chickpea salad. If I remember correctly I sat at a table for 3 1/2 hours in front of that meal when I was 9 “cleaning my plate”. My mother reads my blog so all I can allude to is that while a few bites were swallowed, we did have a very hungry dog named Cindy whose palate was not as refined as mine. So pull up a chair, you may be here awhile.
Thanks for rescuing my non-tech brain with the information on the strike through text as appears in my title today. I promise not to abuse my new power.
Rhett’s party went well last night. It was family, pizza, cake and more presents then most children see in a year. He had a ball. I forgot to include in yesterday’s dribble that eating is like breathing to him and the menu was inhaled enthusiastically.
My mother conceded after reading the last potluck that dad recently ran out of gas with her in the car. They were all dressed up and returning from church in his new 2008 red corvette when the car ran out of gas within 1/8 of a mile from the gas station. My dad excitedly jumped out of the car congratulating himself for choosing such a good location to run out of gas and walked to the station. My mom slid out and plodded in the opposite direction hoping strangers passing by wouldn’t put the two together. There was further confirmation of the “running on empty” gene when my brother admitted to rarely filling up to the right of “E” to the delight of his lovely bride.
I am now 61 days behind on my fly lady duties. The stress! What exactly is her intention in sending me 6 emails a day telling me to declutter my life?
I love that my new friend Rachel didn’t know that I grew up with her husband/family. What fun! Her husband’s parents and my parents are really good friends and we grew up spending Saturday evenings at one another’s house while the adults played games. We quickly (that is my recollection) learned that as long as the kids stayed playing quietly in the basement we didn’t have to go home to bed. This lead to heated, WHISPERED negotiation as to how to keep everyone quiet–almost like a 70’s Kid’s Nation. As a parent, I marvel at the genius of having a house full of quiet kids while playing cards. I suspect Rachel might have a few delightful vegetarian recipes for future potlucks…