I met up with May and Matt at Lily's house today and Gibson came with us to go shopping and Owen went out to run errands with his dad. He said they were going on a date.
"What's a date?" May asked him. "What do you do on a date?"
"Eat and have fun," he said.
And he's right.
So Gibson got to come out with four adults who adore him and he had a decent time of it. He ate. And he had fun. So I guess it was a date.
Here he is, eating and having fun. On our date.
We went to the Costco. We really had only the vaguest ideas of what we needed and of course we ended up impulse buying things like The Mediterranean Platter, stuffed grape leaves, and frozen spanakopita. Mmmmm....
Perhaps the shower is going to have a Mediterranean theme.
Who knows? Not us.
We also bought sparkling wine and tiny quiches. I mean, why not? We kept saying, "Oh, Jessie loves this. We must think of Jessie." And we'd toss another fifty pounds of something delicious in the Vanagon-Sized cart and toddle on down another aisle.
"Are you going to buy cheese here?" May asked me. I recalled what happened when I bought cheese for Thanksgiving at Costco which is that I had cheese until the end of January.
"I'd have to buy it by the fifty-pound bucket," I said.
"I'd like a fifty-pound bucket of cheese," said Matt.
I did not buy the cheese there.
They had camellias at the Costco for sale. I looked at the tag. Here's what it said:
Of course I had to take a picture immediately and send it to Billy with a text message that said, "All right. We're going too far here."
He wrote back, "Whoa."
I said, "I guess Costco is all about equal rights. For babies. Gay babies."
I didn't buy a camellia but I did buy ten New Guinea impatiens to plant in the pots in my back yard where there are now only dead brown sticks. I should have bought a hundred.
We paid for all the stuff and left the store and went back to Lily's house and then I came home and unloaded all the stuff and crammed it into my dirty refrigerator which needs cleaning desperately. Another thing I should do before the shower. I probably won't.
Mr. Moon has gone to auction and so I think that tonight I am going to try and do something about the kitchen. Don't ask me what. I mean, I have tidying and rearranging and organizing and cleaning in mind but what it actually needs is a dumpster and a pressure washer and a professional painter. I have some garbage bags and a few Magic Erasers and I guess I'll start with that.
I don't know. I'm overwhelmed.
I made up The Bed with clean sheets and it's in there calling to me like a whore who wants to get it over with. Is that rude? Maybe I shouldn't say things like that.
Honestly, I can hear it saying, "Come on, honey. I'm so warm and I'm so ready for you. Whatcha waiting for?"
I have decided that mattress technology has reached the pinnacle of success. That they can just stop researching how to make mattresses any better because the Tempur-Pedic people have done it. There is no possible way a bed can be more comfortable than the one in that guest room. And it wants me. It wants me bad.
I found a dead mouse in the yard today. It was so cute. Even in death it was cute.
That has nothing to do with anything. But it's true.
All right. Time to start the second shift.
Unless the bed wins. I am fighting my baser and lazier impulses. We shall see what happens. I could just go heat up the spanakopita and then eat it in that whore of a bed.
I hope that doesn't happen.