Much like blogging Every Damn Day December, blogging A-Z was fun, but tiring.
Also, this last week was spent being inordinately social. I love the people I’ve socialized with. As much as I wish I had several versions of myself for each of my pursuits, I am only one introvert.
While The Mister loves to entertain, I’m the one who cooks. It’s a very nice system, even if it’s one which shouldn’t be employed more than once a week.
We had a young person over on Wednesday, despite my futile attempt to convince my husband that it was not a good night for me. Said young person is a delight, and I have enjoyed her since I first met her, when at the age of five, she was tromping around the cul-de-sac, telling us that her parents didn’t love her, they only loved her baby sister, because they forced her to play outside, while her baby sister got to play inside! (Her baby sister was a baby!) She is still completely disarming.
Once dinner and dessert were done, The Mister was yawning, rubbing his eyes, leaning in to listen on with his chin on his wrist. I made several comments about needing to wash a load of jeans and how I hadn’t had a bath yet. Apparently college students do not read the subtle cues of their aging hosts. They do, however, get tired eventually, and go home.
Thursday night, we drove the children to The Palace of Rules and took a cab downtown to meet Mr. Hill. Yes, we did have a fabulous evening, thank you for asking. Yes, I did drink a lot, thank you for your support.
I wasn’t actually too drunk to keep my eyes open, but bars are dark places, and the FLASH! almost killed me.
You probably saw me trying use a straw to stab the cherry out of my cocktail at Forty-Five, and dancing in my chair at Tini. Yes, you might even have seen me in one of those hipster bars, drinking some complicated cocktail that I can only describe as Oh-fuck-I-could-drink-these-all-night.
I’m not even going to try to describe the events of the evening once we got home.
Last night, we had my in-laws to dinner. This showed more stupidity on our part, because we had labored all day.
I made tacos and three-hour enchiladas. I call them three-hour enchiladas because it feels like it takes three hours to make them. Surely it takes three hours to do all the dishes afterward…
I made 17 of them and all that’s left is a measly one and a half, so yeah, people love them, but they’re a lot of work.
I also made caramelized pears, but my caramel seized. That’s never happened to me before, although I knew it could. Bad things can happen to you, it’s true. I felt like a failure, while everyone stabbed bits of caramel with their forks, but I was actually too tired to hate myself properly.
I don’t know how to explain exactly how thrilled I am to be at home today, hair twisted and braless, with not too much to do. It feels fantastic. I’ve even had the bonus of giving allergy-ridden Moo some Benadryl, so she’s slept since lunch. Very quiet day.
Thrilled to stay home and do laundry, thanks.