August 29, 2007 § Leave a comment
Today I played a little hooky and went up to Sacramento to have lunch with my Dad. It’s his birthday. I set the alarm for a luxurious 8:05am, and at 7:58 started to dream that someone was pressing melty ice cubes against my nose. At 7:58:30 I woke up to find my little man Merckxie pressing his cold wet nose to mine, telling me it was time to get up. A sleeping mommy doesn’t provide kitty num-nums…
Since the Popstar did have some work to do I only stayed for a few hours, but it was great fun sitting in his corner cube (with a window, natch, and a little meeting table in the half that doesn’t have his desk — he has a fancy-pants boss cube), me holding my book up and him holding the papers he was supposed to be working on, both of us giggling and chatting until someone came by, when we’d try to look busy and not laugh. Seeing as how I inherited my tendency to turn bright red at the slightest provocation from him, I’m pretty sure we didn’t fool anybody, but we had a great time trying.
On the way home I stopped at a fruit market in Dixon. They didn’t have the local flour or grains I was hoping for, but I got some yummy cherries and pistachio butter. Joy. Of course, to make room for the cherries I had to do something with the rest of the strawberries I bought on Friday, so I combined it with the rest of the greek yogurt I also needed to use soon, and voila! We have fresh strawberry frozen yogurt (well, actually we almost have fresh strawberry frozen yogurt…I still have to take it out and whip the ice crystals off a couple more times to get the right texture, but we’re close).
While I was making the fro-yo, I sent Mr. Man a text message to ask if he wanted to do a ride today (this time of year, you just never know). He did, which gave me a window to do some yoga (boy, did I need that), and he surprised me by coming home earlier than usual so we got a nice little ride in before the chill started rolling across the ridge. Surprisingly, given our weekend, I felt fabulous and strong. When we got home, he took my list and went to the grocery store while I lounged a little — what a guy.
And tomorrow at work? We’re going to the ball game. With petty cash. For beer.