It all started with this egg. I dropped it.
I dropped it right on the edge of the kitchen mat. I guess there could be worse places to drop an egg. At least this way I could fold the mat like a taco and pour the egg into the sink. I almost made it to the sink. Almost. At the end of my approach, about four feet from the floor, the stupid yolk just rolled on off the mat and splattered.
Dammit. I hate cleaning.
I dealt with that situation, finished up with my cookie dough, and searched high and low for the cookie sheet. In the drawer under the oven... In the cabinet with the pots and pans... In the dishwasher... (Dave wouldn't put the cookie sheet in the dishwasher, would he?) Then it occurred to me, I had been pre-heating the oven and it smelled like something was cooking. The day before yesterday, we used the cookie sheet to make asparagus. I bet the cookie sheet never got cleaned, and is pre-heating in the oven. So I washed a 375 degree cookie sheet with a brush and a potholder.
Fast forward a couple of hours. Our marketing event at the training center was fun. The cookies were a big hit. Crystal sent me home with two leftover pizzas and a 2-liter of root beer. I went outside into a torrential downpour. I stepped off the sidewalk and the water in the parking lot rushed over the top of my shoes and filled them with water. Delicious.
I got home about 20 minutes later, after having blown my feet dry with the heater, and was lugging my two bags, two pizzas, 2-liter of root beer, and empty cookie platter up the stairs when I tripped. I fell. Luckily I was far enough up the stairs for the pizzas and platter to land on the top step without much turmoil. The root beer rolled across the porch. I hit my forearms on the concrete stairs. I laid there hoping Dave heard me and would come out and help me up. Then I wondered if I really wanted Dave to see me lying on the stairs. So I started getting up just as Dave came out to see what the ruckus was about. Great. Best of both worlds.
The worst must be over, right? I am in jammies, after all.
qualified. In almost 18 years of living in Salt Lake City, I had never even pulled onto the driveway leading up to the restaurant. Its beautiful!
We were seated on the patio, where peacocks, ducks, and a rooster just roam around while you eat. There were baby ducks and baby peacocks that were so cute. The grown-up peacocks were a little intimidating, though - one even helped himself to the bread in our bread basket.
it makes you even scarier.
