‘Cause this getting up at the crack of absurd every morning? It’s for the birds. Actually, birds aren’t even up yet when I drag my creaky, puffy carcass out of bed every day to make sure The Young One is up and properly fed and watered before he slumps off to the hallowed halls of middle school.
More good news is Beloved came home last night at a reasonable hour, so we were able to eat dinner and lay in bed while we watched Barack Obama’s acceptance speech for the Democratic nomination.
**WARNING: Completely uncharacteristic and absolutely subjective political opinion ahead**
Whether or not you agree with his politics, you have to admit the man is charismatic as hell. And while this middle-aged babe will be voting for Bob Barr come November, I believe I watched the man who will be the next President of the United States. It will be interesting to watch John McCain next week when he gives his acceptance speech; how he will respond, and what promises he will make. (C’mon, Mr. Obama – we’ll be entirely free of our dependence on foreigh oil in ten years and it will only cost $150 billion? I’m really, really interested to hear the details of that little plan.)
**END: Competely uncharacteristic and absolutely subjective political opinion**
Anyhoo, no sooner had we had time to raise a skeptical eyebrow or two, chuckle at Jon Stewart’s coverage of the convention, indulge in a little – ahem – cuddle time and catch 25 or 30 winks (because it sure as hell wasn’t 40), when Beloved jumped in the car and headed to Pittsburgh for the day. I, myself, am making the pretense of working from home today and tried like hell to get him to stay home, too, even to the point of bribery with some more cuddle time this morning. (Do you hear that, men who are commenting over on Twenty Four at Heart‘s wonderfully amusing gender gap posts this week?) But like most men, he just turned over and went to sleep got in the car and drove to see a client in Pittsburgh.
I feel so cheap. Good, but cheap.
And how am I repaying his desertion? Well, with dessert, actually. I’m making his favorite, Boston Cream Pie. From scratch. Because nothing says “I love you, you cuddle-and-run bastard” like a dessert that calls for a pound of butter and 10 egg yolks. (I can’t post the recipe because the cake and chocolate glaze are from Rose Levy Beranbaum’s The Cake Bible, but I will post pictures once it’s done.)
On a somewhat related note, now that The Young One has returned to school, Beloved’s traveling is becoming more manageable and we’re all back on somethng that resembles a schedule, The Sunday Brunch will be back on a regular basis as of this weekend. I don’t know what it will be yet, but there will be a recipe of something.
I hope you all have a marvelous holiday weekend. I don’t know what we’re doing Monday, although it will probably involve baby back ribs, sweet potato salad and homemade biscuits, but Beloved has promised me a trip down to Yoder Miller’s Authentic Amish Fruit and Vegetable Tourist Trap tomorrow. I’ll take my camera along, because it’s a fun drive through beautiful countryside and an interesting experience (I can’t promise pictures of the Amish themselves – they don’t like tourists to take their pictures, but their horses and buggies don’t seem to mind). Lehman’s Hardware store is always fun, and while I doubt I’ll be able to, I’ll try to get him to drive to downtown Berlin; crowded on any Saturday, it will likely be a madhouse on a holiday weekend. But there is a shop there that sells the most beautiful, intricate, Amish-made quilts. I’ve been lusting after one for years, but they’re not cheap; one that would fit our California King bed will run anywhere from $1,200 to $2,000. If I can pester talk him in to taking me there, I’ll see if they’ll let me take pictures of the place – some of the quilts are simply stunning.
Happy Labor Day, y’all.