This weekend, Janie and I went to Ikea with some of her friends from work. We bought a potato ricer and some lingonberries.
We watched the Seahawks play terrible football and I went on and on about how much I hate Matt Hasselbeck because he holds onto that football for too long, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the screen even after I said I was done and had given up. This is otherwise known as the moment I became my father.
It was a beautiful weekend, weather-wise. When my neighbors were quiet enough to make me think I could go outside without being yelled at, I picked six tomatoes from my three tomato plants. Those six cherry tomatoes are all the ripe tomatoes my plants produced this year.
Last night I had many dreams:
First, there was the one where a tiny yellow and orange duck came out of Janie’s back.
Then there was that one where Janie left me and a bitter gay divorce ensued and I was absolutely not going to let her take that god damn bed.
Third was a dream that my book club was at a water park and I was taking Flip videos of everyone while they floated past me in their inner tubes. Then someone stole my camera and posted the videos online.
There were others, but I can’t remember them just now.
The weekend was one of those times where your days off seem long and drawn out, like you spent more than just those two glorious days wandering around the house in your pajamas. Now it’s Monday and life will not allow me to casually ask Janie questions like, “So, do you think you’ll shower today?”
In other news, Janie and I are penny pinching this week, which means we’re only going to eat the things we find in our cupboards or freezer. If you have a good recipe using nothing but kosher salt, pimientos, a three pound bag of freezer burned cauliflower and broccoli florets, a small cantaloupe and 1/2 bottle of Pepto Bismol, let me know. Thanks.