10 July 2009
7 Quick Takes: Vol 10
You know those perfect (feeling) days? The ones where everything falls into place, and you can't help but smile constantly about it? A week ago Friday was one of those days. We took a day trip to our hometown (which is only 25 miles, fyi) for the annual art and craft fair. We wandered the streets looking at handcrafted beauties while I made notes (in my phone, teehee) about new craft projects for the house. I ran into no less than 10 people I knew. Hugging ensued. It was warm and sunny, but not unbearable. The crowds were there, but not in any ridiculous fashion. We finished up at the art fair in near record time without feeling rushed and took a few minutes to share an elephant ear. Are you familiar? Fried dough, dusted in sugar and cinnamon? Yes, please! Instead of carnival food (except our fried dough friend), we decided on a local hometown hot spot for lunch. The bill was likely less than it would have been, the food was amazing, and no one got food poisoning from some crazy carnie in a tin wagon (which kind of terrifies me, in general). After lunch, we drove out to the beach to stand in the face of amazing beauty with our toes in the sand while a friend's little girl played her heart out on the slides. The way home from the beach included a stop at the best ice cream stand in the whole town (and once we got home, a nap came next, thank G-d). It was just a perfect day, full of snapshot moments, good laughs, and great friends.
The 4th of July was equally fun. We ate an early dinner at home, headed to the lake, saw some old friends, met some new ones (thanks again to the biker's for letting us park in their yard ...), watched some spectacular fireworks, and then had some sparkler fun of our own once we got home. Only at my house will 20something boys get so blasted excited about $1 store sparklers.
I'm working another part time job at a place I worked at previously to cover someone's maternity leave for 8 weeks. I don't know if it'll really only be 8, or if she'll change her mind and want to not come back. I have to leave at the end of 8 anyway, because the teaching year starts then, but regardless I find myself secretly hoping that she decides to stay home with le bebe for awhile. I'm getting old and becoming a softie, I think.
Yesterday, Be and I had a our first "date" in a terribly long time. My mother had to attend a work meeting on the other side of the state (about 2.5 hours), so Be and I tagged along and had amazing fun while she was at her meeting. We strolled through the Swedish homegoods mega store, IKEA, dreaming of kitchen remodels and comparing counter top qualities like we are even remotely close to that kind of project funding (hahaha!). We ate at my favorite Middle Eastern place (which they only have on that side ... boo), a first for Be. The food was awesome, the service amazing, and it was just the two of us ... chatting, sitting quietly, not listening to anyone complain about anything. After picking up my mother once her meeting concluded, we even squeezed in a stop at a local East Side grocery that was tripling coupons (There will be more on this soon ...). We don't even have doubles here ... ever, so I was terribly excited (and super nerdy) about the whole thing.
I am well on my way to a little more organized and a little more scheduled. I'm kind of stoked about it. We had a sweet organizing system and routine before we moved here, and somehow my brain thought you could use the same rules in a giant old farm house as you could in a tiny 700 sq footer. I was mistaken, obviously. There is much more to clean here; more space to wreak havoc on. The plan for keeping 700 sq feet looking pristine does not lend itself well to a multiplication of grandeur. Somehow, though, my brain kept trying to follow the same rules, the same timelines, the same systems ... and losing. I'm not saying the whole thing needed to be scrapped, but some changes needed to be made across the board. I have finally stopped putting them off. Yes!
I' going to try making cherry jam ... probably Sunday. Be afraid, as I am of all things liquid, sticky, and molten.
My nose hurts. Just on the right side. It's sore, apparently, because in some fit of sleepy craziness, I pulled (and quickly, with some force) my teeny tiny nose ring out. I've had the darn thing for 4 years (I think ... maybe more ...), and never have I caught it on something in a way that could possibly pull it out. It sits flush with my skin. It's hard to take out when I want to. It's not awful, just sore. The scarier thought ... what in the world was I dreaming about?
For more Quick Takes Fridays, check out Jen at Conversion Diary.