Impatiently Tapping My Foot

...in anticipation of the "real" spring weather. I know, I know, in two weeks, we (meaning you crazy people who dislike the heat) will all be bitching that we skipped spring and jumped right into the sticky humidity. Such is life on the east coast. Still, I'm eagerly awaiting 70 degree days and 50 degree nights, even if they only last for a day or two.

This weekend, it felt like CPM and I were on vacation. We did a lot of work around the house, but still managed to eat out more than we would normally on your "average" weekend. First, CPM took me to breakfast on Saturday morning. He owed me one. The weekend prior, he had passed a late night comment about "going to breakfast in the morning." Then we woke up and when I asked what we were doing, he told me to cook. Man, that really ticked me off! You know how you fall asleep anticipating your next meal? (What? Is that only me?) Well, to wake up and find out that I wasn't getting fancy coffee and treats was super irritating. Especially since Mr. Spouse happily snoozed away while I prepped the pancakes and tempeh bacon. Arg! So, to correct his mistake, on Saturday, he took me to Green Eggs Cafe in Northern Liberties. This was our second visit. (It has easily become one of our top five breakfast spots.) We always strategize our breakfast order...we both get a savory dish, and then we split a sweet as "dessert." This order: Veggie Benedict, Egg White Omelet with Mushrooms and Tomatoes, and Sticky Bun French Toast.



We did a whole bunch of stuff on Saturday (me: cleaning and food shopping, him, electrical work), then he took me to dinner. Trust me, this is only normal when we have house guests or are on vacation, I never expect two "out" meals in one day. Nevertheless, we found ourselves at Gunner's Run early on Saturday evening. Me: Vegan Sloppy Joes. Him: Panko Fried Cod. Verdict: Delicious. Secondary Verdict: Will be stealing pickle recipe. They are AMAZING.





On Sunday, I cooked breakfast. Just threw together some eggs benedict. You, know, eggs benedict is so quick and easy, I don't know why I don't make it every day. Actually, I really wanted to try out my new poachpods. I've tried the normal egg poaching methods, the whirlpool, the vinegar in the water, etc. My poached eggs still ended up looking like snot. These poachpod things are great! Just lube them up a touch, crack the eggs into the pods, float them in boiling water, cover, and five minutes later you have perfectly poached eggs.





We also have a new Sunday tradition. It's called "Pizza Sunday." Yes, we go out for pizza on Sunday night (or we have for the last five Sundays in a row, at least). We've been frequenting Pizzeria Stella. The pizza there is fantastic, if a little bit pricey. I'm not sure how long pizza Sunday will last...it's the one day of the week where I don't feel rushed to prep a meal, so I normally enjoy cooking. Pizza Sunday might just become Pizza Tuesday. Which would be a nice predecessor to Thai Wednesday. (What, you don't do Thai Wednesday?)

Connection Found

I know all six readers of this blog are hungering to know the outcome of CPM's missed connection. Did he run away with the pizza girl? Did I go all psycho on her ass and send her copies of our wedding photos? Was it in fact just a juvenile prank by CPM's buddies? Relax people. You will get your answers.

CPM actually went to the same pizza place for lunch three times this week. (Yes, he did.) On the first visit, our mystery girl was not working. On the second, she was working, but he didn't say anything. Finally, yesterday, on a solo visit, he worked up the courage to do this:

CPM: What's your name?
Girl: Becky (not her name, name has been changed to protect the innocent)
CPM (smiling trademark CPM grin, blue eyes probably charmingly sparkly): If I told you that I was not an electrician would that mean anything to you? (I gave him kudos for being so cute and not creepy at this moment.)
Becky: OMG, you saw that?

CPM proceeded to laugh and tell her that he was extraordinarily flattered, that he was an old married man, and really thought that his buddies were pranking him. I'm sure the girl was embarrassed. (Side note: can't wait to go get pizza with CPM in tow!)

Once CPM shared the tale with me, we laughed a lot about how I need to go in and tell that girl that she needs to give me free pizza. In fact, we decided that I am actually doing the world a favor by keeping CPM off the market...he's extremely high maintenance and is a total pervert. (His favorite twitter feeds include Girls in Yoga Pants and Iced T's wife Coco for her trademark Thong Thursday posts.) Dear women of the world, send your gifts to my attention in thanks.

The end.

Missed Connections

Yeah. We're pretty sure this missed connection is directed at my husband. I wonder if the young lady will be disappointed to find that he is not an electrician? Perhaps she needed some electrical work done? Too bad, he does the HVAC.

Needless to say, there is currently no living with CPM. He claims this is the best thing to have ever happened to him (when I asked, he answered: yes, even better than marrying me). I don't blame him. I'd be pretty stoked too, if not a little creeped out. Currently, all of the friends claim that it isn't them playing a cruel joke on his ego. I'm not so sure.

The question is, will I ever dine at this pizza place again? I'm not sure I could handle ordering without bursting into laughter.

Suburbs v. City

While walking one of the dogs the other night after dinner, I came upon two police officers and another man calmly wheeling a corpse laden stretcher out of a house, and trying to stuff it into a minivan. (Is this where we all end up, in the back of a late model Ford Windstar?)

In our former city home, this would have been akin to a block party...every neighbor would have been out to watch the proceedings, kids would have been running around, shrieking, it would have been a festive chaos. Bad shit happens, neighbors watch and comment. It's the city way.

In the calm of the suburbs, the dog and I were the only ones to bear witness to this person's final "roll" down the sidewalk. I even felt guilty, as if I shouldn't have stumbled upon the scene. No one was out. No one was even peeking out of their curtains. It was spooky.