Last week I found a recipe on a food blog for carrot cake. I have never made one before, so I mentioned to Andrew that I wanted to try it. He said, "I love carrot cake!" It is very rare that he shows emotion about food (except the famous canneloni from our honeymoon and halibut from his boys' motorcycle trip last summer, which he never ceases to talk about), so when he showed a preference for carrot cake, I made up my mind to make it, no matter what. He was, of course, a little annoyed that I had to buy ingredients for it, but I convinced him that I was NOT changing my mind. Even though I had to buy some round cake pans from the dollar store. It was the first 3-layer cake I've ever made. Frosting it was a bit of an adventure, and it didn't turn out looking like a page out of a cooking magazine or anything, but I was pretty proud of it. And it tasted amazing.
I just love it when Andrew and Eva play outside together. Maybe she thinks the chalk is makeup or something, but she was writing all over her face and body on this particular day. And I started pulling up her thin, floppy hair into miniscule ponytails, and I love how she looks with it. Now if I could just get her to keep it in all day...
Here is something we see on multiple occasions each day in our house. A tantrum face. Cute? Not so much. But maybe someday I'll think it was cute. Once my ears have stopped ringing.
On Friday we went out to dinner at our favorite local restaurant, "Pick-up Taco." Growing up, I had a nickname given me by my sisters: BP. It stands for Bottomless Pit. Friday night, I totally lived up to that name. I was able to work past the huge child that takes up my entire torso and fill my stomach all up anyway. It was delicious. I scraped my plate clean, ate my whole basket of chips and bowl of cheese sauce, then started in on Andrew's chips. Oh, and I picked off of Eva's little plate. And I still wasn't full. YUM. I love that place. After that Andrew agreed to let us stop at this adorable little snowcone shack on the way home. It's called the Snow Ball Factory. Their sign says, "We don't rent pigs." WHAT?? Is that an Oklahoma thing? If anyone can explain to me the connection between snowcones and rental pigs, I would be deeply in your debt. But despite the strange sign, it was a way cute and colorful little place. We shared a big Tiger's Blood, my favorite flavor, and then headed home to hit the pool. I love Fridays like that. You know, ones where we actually go out and do something. Unfortunately, it doesn't happen very much.
Oh, and I have to mention that on Saturday the Willises were so kind to sit at our house while Eva slept so that we could go out to dinner for the last time as parents of one child. We went to a Thai restaurant in town, which, honestly, was taking a big risk for a town like Altus. You never know. But we were pleasantly surprised. It was a little late, so we were the only ones in the place. Our server was very friendly and let us sample all sorts of other foods for while she cleaned out the buffet. I got Pad Thai (of course--that's what I always get) and Andrew got some Garlic Beef thing. Both very good. Melanie and Brian are the best for making that possible!
2 comments:
My hubby is the same way...he rarely says anything about food...whereas food is poetry and an adventure for me...there has only been like once he really sounded enthusiastic for anything of a food nature...maybe I should try carrot cake.
HEY! I know the 'We don't rent pigs' reference- it's from the book Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry. It's one of my all-time favorites. If you ever get a chance to talk to the owner of that establishment, tell him his sign needs a Latin motto!! Something like "Uva uvum viviendo varia fit". He'll be so impressed he'll probably give you all free snowcones.
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