Craig and I went to play mini-golf last night. Unfortunately for him, I have been playing some wicked croquet the past couple weeks…so I dominated his ass! He shot an 89, and I shot an 80, so basically I bent him over and made him my bitch. Figuratively and…well, you get the picture.
I am so relieved that he is back. Tonight we are going on a picnic, ala my cooking. This afternoon I was running around like a little girl. “I don’t have any balsamic vinaigrette, arugula, or kirsch,” I lamented as I swept back the stray hairs from around my face, and wiped my hands on my matronly, floral printed apron.
Ok, so maybe I didn’t say that…but I do like cooking, and I am not apologizing for that. So there.
After dinner I think we will make Dancer in the Dark into a drinking game. Every time Bjork runs into a wall or a piece of furniture we will have to take a shot. So basically, we’ll get through the first 20 minutes and then be sloshed. Afterwards, in a state of drunken-scandalousness, we are going to go to Shattered and make absolute fools of ourselves.
I need to go--I have to put the pork tenderloin in the oven to bake for the Jamaican pork-tomato sandwiches, caramelize the raspberries for the poached peaches and vanilla ice cream dessert, and put the final touches on my bell pepper, cucumber, and goat-cheese appetizers. Bye love!