According to our retired architect neighbor (we love him and his wife and he checks in on me every week when my husband is out of town) we are slated for a “petit bourguois” vacation in the fall. We ran into each other and he told me he was going to send an email to apologize. I called him a wise a** and we were even. We agreed, not that there was any offense taken on my part. We do get together to see the ironer on 12 every so often. I can’t see him from here.
We got our passport photos done today and need flight arrangements very soon. Shhhh, my husband and dog are sleeping.
Now on to plan and menu. I menu-plan on the fly for us, in advance for guests. He eats out all all week and likes comfort food at home, so tonight it’s spaghetti and my homemade meatballs, his favorite.
Lunch is chicken over pappardelle noodles with a walnut pesto or one might call it a chimichurri of my own design. I’ll let you know after I I make it.
Breakfast was supposed to be cheese omelets but he’s slept through that.
Sunday breakfast. As a kid we and Mom would go to Mass and come back to Dad, who was forced to say by a Priest he’d let us grow up Catholic, a Lutheran would make pancakes with bacon or sausage. Actually after age 8 he started before Mass with a milkshake. To this day, I love Dad for his love, breakfasts and milkshakes. We don’t see each other enough to cook together (he cooks and paints after age 75 and I’ve several of his Tuscan and Maori works framed).
If one knows anything about fashion or style, one knows not to try to match the color blue. Contrast it with a scarf or shirt or something that will bring out your best facial features.
I was a little kid, the oldest sibling. We were going on vacation leaving at 4 a.m. the next morning. My younger sister twirled her hair and sucked her thumb, always.
When we were awakened to get dressed there was an issue. A hank of light brown hair with a knot in it was on the kitchen table, along with dull kitchen scissors. We were told we could not go on our vacation until someone confessed. My sister had a spike of hair sticking up from her head and had light brown hair. After an hour I confessed so we could get on our way.
My sister was pardoned for not saying she did it and I was punished for lying. Teutonic justice. Yes, that’s where I’ll be for Dad’s 85th. Don’t worry, we have 24/7 security and the dog will be there to bark at anyone at the door. And now we have two other security agents, H and B, who like their Aunt Dee and will keep us safe.
I will have my barber cut my hair. We’re having a birthday for Bob so why not have a bob? Eight inches were cut off the day after my eye surgery, and I will not leave any in a knot on our kitchen table. And I’m a cook, and would never have dull scissors and would never use them for hair.
I believe my parents didn’t know what to do, and Mom said “punish Dee.” They knew my sister would not budge, waited for me to moderate the situation and as punishment for lying I think I couldn’t go swimming for 24 hours, while I watched my sister relish in doing so.
We all have stories. Tell them to your family and dear friends. Cheers, Dee