Monday, March 16, 2009
Saturday morning, after a while of working in my little pillowed cubby in our "library" (aka a spare room- that's-not-really-a-room- because-it-has-only-2-real-walls, -a-banister-and-a-hallway-so-we- put-shelves-in-and-call-it-a-library), T and I escaped to Pasadena's Huntington Gardens.It was a smidge chilly out, but we found a nice grassy knoll to lie on and chat about things like the state of technology, the changes that are happening in today's youth because of it (as he observes as an academic tutor and as I observed when teaching and working with young'uns here and there over the years as a camp counselor and things like that), and other such topics that only dorks like us can appreciate :)
It was nearly comfy enough to nap,but I realized what a task list I had for the upcoming day and a half so I dragged my eyelids open, and we continued on.
After a couple hours we got stuck in traffic on the way to Tom Bergin's Tavern, which was amazing.
This is T's "Charis isn't yelling at me for having a Guinness for once" face (they have wheat!):And our respective drinks, his=Guinness, mine=some coffee/Baileys/various other stuff mix. (delicious)
Sunday M took us to lunch at Elephant Bar,which may be my very favorite restaurant.T liked it too.We made corned beef and cabbage for dinner yesterday. It was amazing (yay for internet recipe conglomerations!)
Saturday night, because the coffee drinks at Bergin's had been soooo yummy, we decided to walk the two blocks to a Starbucks to get large coffees, then bring them back and make our own version (hello, wet bar in our living room that I have used, now, twice). At the Starbucks we saw that a murder in our neighborhood last month had an update - apparently at the end of January, a couple of guys in a van asked for directions from a girl walking home and tried to grab her and put her in the back of the van. She fought them off and ran away, thank goodness. That's who they're thinking the murderers were. Get this - the van incident happened just around the corner from my house, a little over a block away. Put another tally up in the "let's live in a small town" category.... I never had to be afraid to walk to my car in the morning when I lived in the middle of nowhere....
Anyway, so we brought coffee back and spent an inordinate amount of time making coffee drinks, using spoons to ineffectually attempt that cool layering that you sometimes see in those drinks and everything. They ended up cold (not after we microwaved them), really sweet, and VERY strong. I only had one, of course...
At one point (T made a pizza that night) T was at the sink, dealing with the saucepan after the pizza was in the oven, and I was precariously perching/leaning against the opposite counter, with my cup to my lips, and he slipped, sloshing water out of the sink onto his shirt and the floor. At the exact same moment, my hand slipped and my coffee cup did that almost-dropped-it-but-I-didn't thing.
Did he startle me? No.
Did I startle him? No.
Was there a loud sound? Nope.
Did something subconscious happen to make us both startle? I don't think so.
Did the murderer drive by our house and his psychological evil penetrate the house and both of our minds to make us both unknowingly freak out and lose hold of what we were grabbing? I don't know.
What I do know is that my coffee did not go onto the floor like his dishwater. It all got caught by my shirt. And under my shirt. Yuck. (if you don't know what I mean, check the title of this post)