(no subject)
Bill and I had dinner tonight out on the porch, which was extremely nice, except now I have to remember to go and get a Citronella candle or something, because I'm fairly certain that while I feasted on steak and zucchini and sweet potato and grilled pineapple, the mosquitoes feasted on me.
Beyond that, though, it was a lovely night for grilling outside. The best part about cooking on the grill? Very little clean-up. Two foil packets, a pair of tongs, and the skewers, and that was it. Everything else was washed before Bill even had the pineapple on the fire.
(Grilled pineapple, by the way, is very close to the best thing ever. It's trumped only by s'mores for dessert. With dark chocolate, even.)
In other weekend news, I bought a new pair of black flats with double straps at DSW for $5 (marked down from $50), wrote some 30 pages of wiggiemomsi's Support Stacie fic, stared at the chips_remixed fic for about five minutes, watched the last three episodes of DW S4, and played with the cat. I went to two estate sales yesterday, neither of which were noteworthy except that at the second one, I purchased two cake pans in the shape of a heart for $2 and an illustrated copy of Anne of Green Gables for $1.
Also, the first one was in an expanded old farmhouse. The old farmhouse bit was gorgeous, exposed beams and white-washed walls and nooks and crannies and twists and turns and I would have KILLED to get up on the second floor, because it was set up like a balcony inside the house and looked absolutely fascinating. Except it was blocked off. Boo.
But the kicker was the house next door: a CHURCH converted into a PRIVATE RESIDENCE. It still had steeple, it still had the church-shaped doors, it even still had the stained glass windows. But it was absolutely, definitely, a private residence. First, because one of the folks running the estate sale said so.
Second, because there was no sign advertising St. Whoever's Church.
Me: There is no way I could live in a church. Even if it was un-consecrated or whatever it is they do to churches to make them not-churches.
Bill: Why not?
Me: I couldn't sleep. I'd be convinced nuns were going to walk by and slap me with rulers until I woke up and recited the Lord's Prayer.
Bill: Forget trying to sleep - try to have sex in there!
*shudders*
Beyond that, though, it was a lovely night for grilling outside. The best part about cooking on the grill? Very little clean-up. Two foil packets, a pair of tongs, and the skewers, and that was it. Everything else was washed before Bill even had the pineapple on the fire.
(Grilled pineapple, by the way, is very close to the best thing ever. It's trumped only by s'mores for dessert. With dark chocolate, even.)
In other weekend news, I bought a new pair of black flats with double straps at DSW for $5 (marked down from $50), wrote some 30 pages of wiggiemomsi's Support Stacie fic, stared at the chips_remixed fic for about five minutes, watched the last three episodes of DW S4, and played with the cat. I went to two estate sales yesterday, neither of which were noteworthy except that at the second one, I purchased two cake pans in the shape of a heart for $2 and an illustrated copy of Anne of Green Gables for $1.
Also, the first one was in an expanded old farmhouse. The old farmhouse bit was gorgeous, exposed beams and white-washed walls and nooks and crannies and twists and turns and I would have KILLED to get up on the second floor, because it was set up like a balcony inside the house and looked absolutely fascinating. Except it was blocked off. Boo.
But the kicker was the house next door: a CHURCH converted into a PRIVATE RESIDENCE. It still had steeple, it still had the church-shaped doors, it even still had the stained glass windows. But it was absolutely, definitely, a private residence. First, because one of the folks running the estate sale said so.
Second, because there was no sign advertising St. Whoever's Church.
Me: There is no way I could live in a church. Even if it was un-consecrated or whatever it is they do to churches to make them not-churches.
Bill: Why not?
Me: I couldn't sleep. I'd be convinced nuns were going to walk by and slap me with rulers until I woke up and recited the Lord's Prayer.
Bill: Forget trying to sleep - try to have sex in there!
*shudders*