I spent the day at my mom's with my sister Karen emptying out the patio, removing the lattice and shredded plastic used to keep it warm in winter (gotta keep those stray cats happy,) hosing everything down inside and out, then putting it all back together again.
It looked depressingly the same when we were done, only with less spiders.
Not satisfied we had “done enough,” we then cleared the garden paths of rampant poppies and spider plants and dug up and re-laid the pavers so you can actually walk AROUND the entire garden. What a novel idea!
We then adjourned to my house where we showered:
- Karen with Jesse, baby shampoo, and screams every time Jesse did the shake all over thing and flung water everywhere;
- Me, alone.
Being the ultimate hostess, I made a light dinner of salad and flatbread pizza. It doesn’t matter the pizza came from a box in the freezer and the salad from a bag. I did add onions and raisins and sunflower seeds to the salad. That’s something.
I’ll vacuum in pumps and pearls next week for Suzie Homemaker penance.
As the last remaining people on earth who had never seen Hellboy, we then did so and are now obsessed with obtaining the sequel. Hope it’s good. Though how can it possibly be bad with a giant, buff red guy with a deep and sexy voice? So he has horns, big deal. So did my ex-husband.
When the movie finished around 7:30, we were going to take a well deserved soak in the hot tub only to discover it had started to rain. Drat. What to do? While I contemplated finding something else to watch on TV or, well, anything that would keep me parked on my ass, Karen pulled some pita dough out of my fridge that she whipped up in about ten seconds the other day and baked up a batch of pitas. Every single one puffed up beautifully in the oven. She would want me to tell you that because apparently it doesn't always happen.
I don't think Karen lives in Idaho. I think she lives in Stepford Valley with her Stepford dog and Mr. Stepford.
And a bunch of Stepford chickens.