Wednesday, July 27, 2011

So Sweet!

This is how my life goes...

So, some friends were meeting in old town Pasadena for a little party of sorts... at this nice little tapas bar. I decided to ride there on my bike to avoid the parking mess down there. It's only a few miles away. Already evening. I won't even break a sweat. Now, I don't want to show up in biking clothes so I decide since the ride will be so simple, that I can tuck in the cuffs of my pants... and wear a nice top and sweater. I put on a clean white sweater... thinking to myself, this trip will be simple I can wear this sweater to work tomorrow as well.

I get there... no sweat, no stains. We are all sitting around enjoying the evening--eating our tapas. I'm being very careful not to spill on myself. Leaning far over my plate, napkin on my lap. (Those of you prone to spills, you know!) All of a sudden I look over and my friend to the left of me is biting into a cherry tomato. You guessed it. It squirts out and the contents land all over the sleeve of my sweater. The one I will no longer be wearing to work tomorrow.

Made it home. Still no sweat. Still no grease stains. Only tomato. I didn't even do it to myself, somehow messes are just attracted to me!! Urgh!!

Speaking of tomatoes. We recently joined an Organic Fruit and Veggie delivery service run locally in our neighborhood... and we've had tomatoes coming out of our ears. So, I love the crock pot! I use mine on and off... currently I'm making chicken broth (in one) and slooowly cooked marinara sauce with heirloom tomatoes and red basil, among many other things (in the other). It smells so good and I can't wait to add the Italian sausage to it. Yum!

8. A big hug from a sweet little kid today.

9. My soft and comfy bed.

10. The smell of yummy food coming from my apartment when I'm still in the driveway.

11. A hug from a co-worker.

12. My kind husband who likes to talk things out.

13. The flowers (from Jon) on my bookshelf.

14. Leftovers. (skip the cooking for the night)

No comments:

Post a Comment