
MB said it was okay to display her fancy moustache on my blog.
The German flight attendants passed out chocolate Santas to placate us -- as if they had an emergency box stored just waiting for to appease an angry mob. We finally made it to London but that emergency choco santa was long gone.
My mom is frantic about buying one of these -- so she asked me to figure it out for her because she has dial-up and no patience. I think she wants one because it looks simple and won't break, but now that I've "figured it out" (i.e. got on the website in less than ten minutes) I'm happy to support the cause and give this to my mom for Christmas (don't tell!)
Tonight the Chef & I are determined to watch the Packers game even though we are not sports fans. In order to do so we had to upgrade our cable package to include the NFL Network.
No one has arrive yet -- so TIVO is paused on the coin toss, and the Chef is starting the grill.
The watermelon-holding-girl below has seen better days. The hot sun does not help her bright colors and it is rumored that she was vandalized by the renters next door. Children are not allowed to stay in Sun Lakes (it's an old people only zone) so they were not only bad renters, they were illegal underage gnome wreckers.
Here's the actual Gnome View from Sun Lakes. Note the bubbling fountain, and the golf cart in the background. Sometimes windows need to be replaced because golf balls fly off course. All this retirement relaxing can be dangerous.
Everyone was happy to wave their potatoes in the air (and, as instructed, not throw them.) Plus, those sign holders were dedicated to their job.
They child-proofed the lyrics to a few songs, including "Feel Like Skipping Rope" which are not the original words to the sexytime favorite by Bad Company.
This was the first time we witnessed TWO dancing steaks. All my pictures of the dancing steaks turned out very blurry, because they were always dancing.
The next day was all about FRUITCAKE -- as in our annual pilgrimage to the Dominican Sisters of Mission San Jose's festive Holiday Boutique. We headed down to Fremont to load up on their olive oil, fruit cake, persimmons and (hic) bourbon balls.
(If you are related to me, you will be eating some of this fruitcake soon. That is either a threat or something that you can look forward to in December.)
The Sisters produce and sell olive oil made with olives from their own trees.
As the sisters like to joke, it's "Extra Virgin" Olive Oil. Really, they do.
One of the nuns asked me if I had bought a raffle ticket yet and I immediately said "YES!" (because I am a compulsive people pleaser) before I realized I had just lied to a nun. Bah! I try so hard to support the sisters, but there is no way to avoid the easy-to-step-into guilt of a lapsed Catholic (make that a lapsed Catholic who is also a big liar.)
This annual tradition always reminds the Chef & I that the holidays are around the corner even though it seems like the seasons here never change. Yet when we see that big stack of fruitcakes down in Fremont, we know that it is no longer June in California.
I realized that lately I've been spending too much time watching tiny, bad quality videos on my computer monitor -- as this b&w, silent big screen experience with a live orchestra just blew my mind. Take that Web 2.0!
A not-so-complete gander at my world. Plus, when I write things down, it makes it harder to forget that they happened.