February Pointless Lists

Valentine's cookies from my mommy.

This has been a weird February. Usually we're dealing with an inversion and don't see the sun all month (let alone the other side of the street). But this year it's been absolutely gorgeous. We're a month ahead in the spring game--trees and flowers are already in bloom. Which is scary because we live in an agricultural area and one good freeze is going to really mess up a lot of people.

But jeez, we got the good end of this weather stick. Poor Boston.

Well, anyway. The other day I was walking into work, and the sun was shining, and the wind was brisk, and I had my coffee, and I couldn't help but smile. This is exactly where I want to be, you guys. I am one lucky chick.

Colleges trying to recruit Abby this month:
St. Martin's University (my Dad is an alumni, so he was pretty jacked about this one)
Willamette University
Linfield (she's been waiting for this one)
The College of Idaho

...And a few medical leadership conference invitations. Abby was all, I want to be a physical therapist, not a doctor! as she looked through one brochure of seemingly happy kids in their surgical masks. Cool beans, yo. Can you do something about my shoulders? That'd be great.

Also, side note: She's pretty sure none of these colleges actually expect her to attend; they just want her $75 application fee. Huh. Well, that seems like a tough way to increase funding, but what do I know?

Another side note: It looks like the letters spree is over. Mail time is boring again.

Books read:
I finally finished The Assassin's Blade by Sarah J. Maas, which ends on SUCH a downer (and you thought Empire Strikes Back was bad). Even though it was mostly just sad (because I already knew it was not going to end well for our heroine), I thoroughly enjoyed the backstory of Celaena Sardothien. And Sam! CRY.

Give me a minute to collect myself, you guys. I felt this one deep.

This month I also tackled Fairest by Marissa Meyer. I love Cinder, Scarlet and Cress, and am very much looking forward to Winter being released this fall. Meyer just spins a good tale.

But this one was only okay. I already knew Levana, the villainous queen of Luna, was freaking nuts, and I suppose her backstory should have made me feel a little bit sorry for her, or maybe a little more understanding, but not so much. She was just crazy. And the book just read different from the others. I don't know, less detailed, less... everything.

But hey, I did learn a few things, and it was sort of interesting to see characters introduced through Levana's eyes, I guess. Whatever. Abby just told me it wasn't supposed to be another Cinder, just a "little bit extra." Well... I suppose mission accomplished, then.

BUT! There were FOUR CHAPTERS of Winter at the end, and it was everything I love about this series. How the hell am I supposed to wait for the next one?

...And then I reread the Throne of Glass series again because I wanted to. So there.

Movies watched:
Johanna has been bugging us for a movie night, and we finally broke down last Saturday and watched The Lego Movie. And oh em gee (to quote Joey), that movie was hilarious. We were prepared to take one for the team for this kid, but we all ended up thoroughly enjoying ourselves. Who knew?

Project 333 update:
Let's see. I'm down a blue long sleeve t-shirt (wasn't wearing it so I turned it into PJs) and my grey sweatshirt skirt (bummed but for the best--that thing is hard to style for some reason). My new black turtleneck sweater wins the Workhorse of the Month Award--I wear it constantly and always feel like a rock star when I do. I have one exactly like it in grey. That one does not make me feel like a rock star. It's still in my closet. I'm kind of forgetting why.

Oh! And the weather has been so nice that I pulled out my black/white dot tank top and beige jacket to wear to a function of the girls'! And then froze my ass off! I guess sunny skies and 50ºs doesn't exactly translate into THAT kind of an ensemble yet, but hey, I tried, and I did look rather fabulous if I do say so myself.

Now my list looks like this:
Grey: Pants, skirt, cardigan, turtleneck sweater, pullover sweater (4)
Black: Pants, long-sleeve T-shirt, (black and white) blouse, (black and white) tank, cardigan, turtleneck sweater, scarf, boots, ankle boots, flats, coat (11)
Purple/Maroon: Zip-up sweater, pullover sweater (2)
Red: Scarf (1)
White/Beige: Blouse, skirt, pants, long sleeve t-shirt (4)
Teal: Zip-up sweater, t-shirt skirt, pullover (3)
Navy/Blue/Light blue: Cardigan, (navy) long sleeve shirt, (light) long sleeve shirt, jeans, denim skirt, scarf (5)

If my math is correct (and I'm not placing any bets on that one), that make 30. Weird. I would have never believed that possible a year ago. Have I mentioned lately how happy I am that I found Project 333?

Light update
My January attempts at food decluttering continue to go pretty well. My pantries (um, yes) are looking great. My freezers, however, are still kind of a wreck. This is because, while I am using up items from both, I've been using Sunday as my meal-prep day and usually end up with two or three dinners/sides in the freezer for the coming week. But we don't always eat everything I've made, so basically I've traded one form of clutter for another. On the upside, we haven't had Random Crap in a Tortilla Night ALL MONTH. It's like a February miracle. Still much work to do, but wow. I feel very good about this!

My February attempts at morning yoga have been much easier. Well, aside from the actually having to get up in the mornings, but even that has ended up not being so bad. I feel so much better in general after I practice, and practicing regularly has done amazing things for my neck. I missed a handful of mornings for various stupid reasons (like Tuesday, when I felt like crap), but I'm picking myself up and brushing myself off and counting it as a win. I think I'll be able to keep this one up.

Since apparently I've got a theme going here, I'm going to concentrate on getting the crap out of my little reading retreat. It's the one place in my house that I actually despise, which is unfortunate because it's so cute and I used to love it so much. It's not something I particularly want to tackle, but I think it's time. Look for that post, I guess.

Zero Waste Wednesday: Coffee! part I

You guys, I love coffee. I love it. There are no words to adequately describe the way I truly feel about those magic beans. Coffee is the highlight of my morning.

And afternoon.

And sometimes evening.

I just really love coffee is what I'm saying. It's probably not surprising that the bulk of my Christmas gifts this year were in the form of coffee cards. (BEST. GIFT. EVER.)

In our little tourist trap of a town, we're lucky to have a few coffee roasters. Not all of them open their doors to the public, but my favorite one happens to (um, that might be why it's my favorite, come to think of it), and the owners, aside from being super chill and awesome, allow me to bring in my reusable container for my coffee fix. And then punch my card so I get a free pound after every 10.

My jar holds roughly 1.25 pounds, which equals about a month of beans in Trishaville. Let me walk you through the process:

1. Peg's behind the counter! She's so great. We chat.
2. She takes my jar and weighs it to find the tare, like so:

My jar is apparently heavier than the coffee it holds.

3. She takes it in back to fill it up with Decaf Sumatra, my favorite.
4. I pet the coffee dog for a while, but feel bad when I scare him with my scarf.

Source.
Not THE dog, but a near identical representation.

5. Peg comes back with my jar and sets it on the scale again.

Hi, pretty beans!

6. As you can see from the photo, the scale is set up for tare, so it subtracts the weight of the jar from the weight of the beans on its own. Pretty smart, scale!

7. I had over my credit card. Buying this locally roasted coffee is more expensive than buying a plastic bin of some industrial coffee, but I don't care. It's totally worth it. Then Peg punches my stamp card and I pat the dog one last time and that's that.

It's really not that hard.

I've also seen people come in with a recycled paper bag. We'll call that Plan B.

Pros
COFFEE!
Locally roasted
Good relationships with its growers and treats them fairly, which is important to me
Tastes great
Less filling (wait, no, that's a beer commercial)
Nothing to recycle or throw away later

Cons
Truthfully, it's an extra step, going to a roaster instead of just getting it in the grocery store. Although...

P.S. You could do the same thing at the grocery store with a bulk coffee display. Con negated! 

'Doughnut Lottery'

I've mentioned before that Johanna is a powerhouse of creativity, and, thanks to an after school program that ensures she gets her homework done BEFORE she even gets home (uh, that's awesome), she found herself at a bit of a loose end the other night and ended up making what I'm sure will be the Next Big Board Game.

May I introduce you to Doughnut Lottery?

Homemade game board with doughnut markers!

She reused a shoe box for optimum game storage.

How to play. Deceptively simple.

If you like board games that have no real point and where the worst that happens is that you are awed by a cat cookie and lose a turn, then this board game is for you! Johanna says that all you have to do is go around the board 10 times (and then changes it to 12... then 15...). Whoever ends up with the most "dough-llars" (um, that's a play on "dollars" in case you're not a fourth grader) wins it all! Since she didn't make nearly enough dough-llars to cover the insane amounts of cash giveaways included in the game, you'd think that would shorten things up a bit.

But wow, would you be wrong.

I land on "Awed by cat cookies" EVERY TIME.
It's like this board game has read my diary.

"Risk it all" is kind of overselling it. It's more like,
"risk nothing, just get more dough-llars."

"I LOVE this game!" Johanna can be heard saying whenever one of us breaks down and agrees to play with her. She was so excited to have a friend over yesterday so she could play it with someone she's not related to.

Side note: Her little pal Hayley was way more interested in why she made a game, why there weren't more dough-llars ("You're cheap. Let's just make more!"), and whether or not she could be the pink doughnut. Extra mom points for me because I got the girls actual doughnuts to eat while they played. I know. My awesomeness shocks even me sometimes.

While I can't take orders (because there is only one of these games in existence), this is just a note to say that you're more than welcome to come over and play with her yourself because jeez, you guys, there are only so many rounds of this I can take I believe in spreading as much Doughnut Lottery joy as possible into the world.

'Cause I'm a giver.

Light 2015: Yoga edition

You'd think Skilly would be all about Cat Pose, but he's more of a
Shavasana kind of guy.

Last month I worked to get my food clutter under control, and that has been an ongoing process. I'm still planning meals around what's in the freezer and pantry, and while the freezer remains alarmingly full, the pantry is looking great. I'm purposely only buying what's on my list AND only single items. No stocking up, you guys. It goes against the grain, but it's kind of liberating.

I have a feeling it will continue to be something I have to work at.

This month, I decided to add yoga to my morning routine. I love yoga--it makes my long dumb limbs and joints feel so great afterwards, helps keep my anxiety under control, and helps keep my overall outlook sunny. Ish. Sunny-ish. Not that I never have a bad day after yoga. Just that I'm able to keep it in perspective.

Most of the time. Again, it's a work in progress. ;)

I am not really a morning person, but if I leave my practice until after work, it just doesn't happen. I'm tired. Plus, with everyone in the house running around, it's kind of hard to concentrate.

And I have enough trouble concentrating as it is.

Also: Girls, quit stomping. Jeez. It's like I'm living with Paul Bunyan and Babe.

This post is getting away from me. Let me get to the point (I know, shocking!): I have found that moving yoga to the very beginning of my day works great for me. While Eric is in the shower, I'm on my mat. It might only be 20 minutes, but that's better than nothing, and still gives me all the benefits listed above. It's peaceful and it's quiet, and is a nice way to wake up, actually.

(And this week I've been making deals with myself to stay in bed just a little longer... which probably means I need some accountability, even if so far I haven't succumbed to temptation. Thus the post. Thank you, internet friends!)

When I have time, like on the weekends, I treat myself to a longer session a la Dr. Melissa West. I got very lucky when I started my online yoga quest because hers were maybe the third videos I'd tried. And I've never turned back. I like her style--her motto is "real yoga for real people" (or something to that effect), and she's just fun. She's also a great teacher and apparently a really nice person because she's got over 250 free one-hour yoga sessions on her YouTube channel. I've learned so much by practicing with her... solo... in my living room.

Anyway, go look her up if you're on the fence about yoga. Or maybe if you're totally stressed out about now. You're welcome.

I'm trying to work on concentrating (that really is a problem for me on multiple levels) on my breathing when I practice--my mind likes to wander freely and NOT on my breathing--and some days that's easier than others. Some days I just embrace the monkey mind (Melissa says that a lot) and get on with it. Also: My flexibility is terrible, but it's getting better. I think. Well, I hope.

Anyway. Yoga. Every day. Who knew I could actually accomplish this? I'm kind of proud of myself, if you want to know the truth.

And so it begins

This Wednesday is Ash Wednesday, that magical time of year when Catholics remember that we are dust, and to dust we shall return.* I don't know, it sounds kind of depressing, but it's not.

There's a point to all this, dude, which I realize is a little bit of a departure from my usual posts. I'd apologize, but it will probably be awhile before that happens again, so never mind.

I'm giving up processed foods for Lent again this year. Because... I have to think about it a bit, and it definitely requires a commitment. It's easy to throw any old foodstuff into your mouth even when you are blessed** with food sensitivities as I am. Plus I am hopelessly addicted to Annie's Cheddar Bunnies.

Not that there's anything wrong with that. It's just a good time to reevaluate is all.

More fruits and veggies. Less Cheddar Bunnies.
Lent is hard.

Anyway, I define "processed" as anything with more than four ingredients, but it's not a hard and fast rule because Fritos have three (uh, still processed) and real chocolate has, like, five or something (may as well be prepared for contingencies). I was surprised last year at how many one and two ingredient foods there are out there. The bulk and produce aisles were my particular friends.

And just FYI, I count cooking from scratch as non-processed. And it mostly is. Whatever it is I'm using cannot have more than four ingredients per item, so it works out pretty well. This is why Mara's Mac and Cheese counts as non-processed (I made that for dinner tonight and have some in containers for my lunches this week. Don't tell Abby or she'll steal it) but, say, packaged tater tots do not. (Even organic tater tots have more than four ingredients. Boo!)

So that explains why I spent all of today--happy birthday, George Washington!***--cutting and preparing all manner of fruits and vegetables. Boring. But it will make meals and snacks easier for everyone, so time well spent, I guess. For them, since they didn't have to do it. (Wow, still bitter. Might be a long 40 days.)

Other projects: I have some baguette from my favorite bakery cut and prepped and in the freezer, awaiting lettuce and cheese (Tillamook Medium Cheddar has four ingredients, thank you Jesus, and so does this bread). And I made a couple of sides and a couple of mains to have on hand for the week as well. I went meatless because A) We don't eat a lot of meat anyway and 2) This way, it doesn't matter what day of the week we eat it. 'Cause you do NOT eat meat on Fridays, you guys. You just don't. Here's what Catholic Online says about that:

Abstinence: The law of abstinence requires a Catholic 14 years of age until death to abstain from eating meat on Fridays in honor of the Passion of Jesus on Good Friday. Meat is considered to be the flesh and organs of mammals and fowl. Also forbidden are soups or gravies made from them. Salt and freshwater species of fish, amphibians, reptiles and shellfish are permitted, as are animal derived products such as margarine and gelatin which do not have any meat taste.

Oh, jeez, I had no idea we could eat amphibians and reptiles on Fridays. Gag. There's something to be said for stupidity. I can ever unlearn that. Bummer.

I guess the good news is that, having last year's experience under my belt, I know better what to expect: Higher grocery bills, massive amounts of time prepping and preparing, chocolate withdrawals, and overall better health.

There's always a bright side. And it's not supposed to be easy.

P.S. You might wonder why I don't give up coffee, since that would be a logical choice. It's because Jesus loves me, you guys. I figure Americanos are totally in the non-processed zone, although my beloved vanilla lattes, not so much. That's why I've made a batch of vanilla syrup, just in case we get into any emergency situations. Four ingredients--sugar, brown sugar, vanilla and water. Whew!

*And you thought Catholics don't read the bible. ;)

**Sarcasm!

***Technically I did not have the day off, but I did have one last vacation day before my four year employment anniversary that I needed to burn, and with Eric and the girls home, I thought, why not? It's kind of weird that some people get Presidents Day off and others don't, but whatever.

WHY the attitude, words?

QUIT BEING JERKS, words, jeez!

Now that I've defended the words, the words are being jerks.

You guys, writer's block is the worst. It's not that you can't write--it's that everything sucks. I worked on what should have been an easy feature for most of the day yesterday, and I felt like I was bashing my head against the wall the entire time. I have the thing written, but it's all wrong, it's too much, and it comes nowhere near the story I wanted to tell. I've restarted and deleted so many times at this point I've lost count. I'm afraid my deadline will come and go and I'm going to just have a blank spot on the page where the words should be.

I don't think that will go over very well.

What if there's a word cap? What if I've exceeded my limit and now I'm done? I mean, I tried everything yesterday to get the words to flow: Coffee, listening to music, taking a walk to clear my head, moving on to other stories in the hopes that something, anything, would bubble up to the surface and give me some relief.

Nope.

So I'm depressed and frustrated is what I'm saying. I thought that I could clear the dam by writing a post about Valentine's Days past, but those words won't come either, the bastards, so FINE. Who even needs you, words?

We'll hope it shifts back to normal by Monday. Otherwise, I'm screwed.

Wednesday "Art," our morning view edition

Oh, just a little something Eric took from the deck before work.
It almost looks fake. Mt. Hood is AWESOME.

Well, that's awkward

If I may be so bold as to quote myself from this January 23 post...

My favorite grey sweater (favorite even though I look kind of terrible in grey) got a hole in the back collar almost ASAP after purchasing the thing at Eddie Bauer in September. I causally mentioned that to the kid behind the counter as I was buying Johanna a plain black t-shirt (that is another post for another time) and she was all, that is not right, and then went and found my sweater in my size and traded me one for one right there. Um, I was not expecting that. Wicked cool, Eddie Bauer kid!

...because that sets the stage for the rest of this sad tale, internet friends.

Are you ready for an update that will wrench your heart in two? Um, or kind of just make you shake your head a bit?

Then let's get started.

I've been wrestling a little with this new/old piece in my Project 333 capsule wardrobe, which is slightly odd because the old one was my favorite. I wore it all the damn time. This one is fine, it's just cut bigger (even though it's the same size. I don't understand you, clothing industry), and I feel a bit tent-ish--or, at the very least, like I'm back in the 1980s (in case you didn't get to experience that golden age for yourself, we liked big hair AND oversized clothes. It sounds more awesome than it actually was). Abby says I'm silly and that it's still very nice. And sometimes I do like the oversized cut... like last week, when it was cold and grey and what I really wanted was to wear a blanket to work. Since that's not in the dress code, I chose this sweater.

And look what I found:

My source for this image is myself.

At least my last hole was on the back collar and was easily covered by my hair. THIS hole is in such an awkward place... in the back on an obvious arm seam.

I'm not sure where this leaves us, you guys. The knit of this sweater is so awesome... maybe I could upcycle it into a skirt? (Upcycle is too a word, spell check! Quit changing it to epicycle, you're driving me insane, jeez!) I'm not sure I'm going to want to mend this thing every other week (because my mending skills are apparently terrible).

It's very sad and disappointing is what I'm saying. Maybe I need to find a new store for my go-tos, because Eddie Bauer just isn't what it used to be. I'm more upset about that than the hole in my sweater, to be honest.

In defense of words

Source

Why is it that words are valued so much, and yet so little?

I've been thinking about this lately, probably because I need more hobbies and also because words are roughly 89.6 percent of my entire life. (The rest is coffee. Um, I suppose the family is in there somewhere, too.) I write for a newspaper. The majority of my free time goes to reading or writing this blog. Words, words, beautiful words!

I'm not the only one who loves words. The world is filled with writers and readers. Even those who don't consider themselves writers or readers have to read and write. Take my darling husband as an example: He's a county planner, and he isn't a reader or a writer, and yet, he spends the majority of his day writing staff reports and reading... um, planning related stuff, I assume. I really need to pay more attention. But anyway, you get my point.

Probably about a year ago now, when I was up at the front counter, I had a guy come in all pissed because one of our sister publications had the audacity to have a paywall up on their website. First of all, if you're going to complain, dude, complain to the right paper. (Obviously I haven't gotten over this encounter yet.) But then I was all, wait a minute, you are essentially telling me that you WANT the news, you just don't want to pay for it.

He wanted a service so much he was willing to come in to complain about the lack of service, but not enough to shell out the $1.99 or whatever it is for a week's worth of online news. I thought that was interesting. Why don't we want to pay writers?

We happily pay dentists and accountants and farmers. (Well, the farmers probably are in a similar boat, actually, so never mind that one.) We'd never schedule an oil change and expect not to pay for the work. Or to a stylist and then balk at the cost of the haircut. We pay $5 for one cup of coffee, internet friends, and we don't even give that a second thought. I actually consider it money well spent.

Seriously, though, any ideas why this is?* I was all up in arms about the discrepancies here myself until I realized I do the same damn thing. I like to read free news sites and blogs. I like to get my Kindle books for the cheapest possible price and bitch when they're "expensive." I WANT words--not to be overly dramatic, but I need words to live--so why don't I want to pay for them?

And more importantly, pay the people who came up with the words. You guys, the words are (usually) easy for me to come by--I just sit down and let them do the talking (and then get pissed and frustrated when they decide to take a break. Writer's block is such a drag)--but that doesn't mean I don't work hard when I'm writing. It takes me an average of two hours to write a blog post (although I've been working on this one on and off for about a week. Well, it's more complicated than my normal faire). It probably takes me between two and five hours to write the average news story, which doesn't include interview time. When they're more complicated, they can take an entire day. Or more.

Or less. Sometimes you just have to push a story out the door and be okay with that.

I have no idea what the time frame is for other writers, but who cares? Writing is a service, and doesn't it follow that my services should be compensated? Not that I particularly care about money, mind you, but I do care about feeding and clothing and sheltering my kids. My words help do that in our family.

So you know what? I've given up bitching about having to pay for the words I read. You want me to pay $9.99 for an ebook? I'm on it. A whole 99 cents for a newspaper article? Fine. Writers do not make very much--my words might help our family, but Eric's job is what really allows us to live in a house and buy food and clothes and, like, cat food for Skilly and coffee for me.** I have a feeling that very little of my 99 cents OR my $9.99 actually makes it to the writer, but hey, it's the first step to acknowledging that words are worth something.

Words are worth everything.

On a related note, my friend Mara is an indie author with two (and hopefully soon to be three) books out there in the world. She wrote a great blog post recently about the importance of reviews to writers. I've been trying to be better about that, too--it might not be monetary support, but it does show that words are valuable enough to me that I will take the time to let others know what I thought of a book, maybe inspiring more sales.

Um, the end, I guess.

*I have a theory, now that I think about it, especially when it comes to ebooks or internet apps: Because you're not getting something tangible to hold in your hands, like a real book or newspaper, you feel like you're paying for nothing. Unfortunately, writers have to take the time to craft that story or news article no matter what medium you read it on. You're paying for their time, not a physical object. I know, it's weird.

**I make about a poverty-level wage, which is fine when your husband is a government employee, but maybe not so great for those trying to actually make a go of it without that kind of financial backup. To put it in perspective, my college-aged nephew makes more per hour at his entry-level summer job than I make in my professional career. And while I really love my work... it would be nice to be able to support myself without help is all.

The geriatric winning streak continues!

This week, I'm writing a feature story about a (very nice) man who works at one of our town's assisted living facilities, so today I went to take some photographs to accompany the article. I'm not a very confident photographer, but I am enthusiastic.

Eh, it's digital. No one cares if I take 25 pictures just to get a good one.

Moving RIGHT along: I was met in the lobby by some very excited elderly women, who had been told I was coming and were there to give me some action shots. And meet a "real journalist." You guys, this was probably the nicest reception I've ever had in my life. We have some very loyal readers in that joint. The kicker was when they started thumbing through the current issue to find my by-lines. I felt kind of like a rock star. I tried very hard not to let all the attention and love go to my head. Although I'm very seriously thinking I need to visit every day now...

Not my new best friend, but I bet we'd get
along just fine.

I had one enthusiastic new friend who was very excited to tell me about her poetry and little details about her life. At one point, she couldn't think of a word she wanted to use, and I was all, no worries, that happens to me all the time, and she was like, you're too young for that!, and then I was all, uh, I'm 42, and she was like, NO! I thought you were 25!

I hugged her. I really did. I was like, you are my new best friend. Because you guys, there's just no way anyone in their right mind would ever think I was in my 20s.

Oh.

Who cares! I have a new best friend!

Aisle talk

Source

I had a very eventful trip to the grocery store the other night. I don't normally hit the shops after work, because obviously, that's just crazy talk right there, but times were desperate because we were out of milk and you guys, my morning cup of coffee was in serious jeopardy. Oh, and the kids needed it for their cereal or whatever.

So there I am in the bakery section (um, samples, but I learned my lesson because the quarter of a cranberry white chocolate chip cookie I ate sent me into one of my beloved stomach upheavals, which was way fun to deal with at 10:30 p.m.) and here's this little boy, probably around three, looking up at me. Well, everyone looks up to me because I'm kind of a giant, but then he's all ROAR!, with his hands up like scary tiger claws or something. His father was horrified. I almost collapsed from laughing. That kid was awesome. You go, tiger boy.

Then I was in the beer section because Deschutes Brewery Inversion IPA was on sale and that's one of Eric's favorites, and as I'm loading two cases of this stuff in my very small cart (why did I pick the small cart again? The lower bar always hits me in the shins, which isn't as fun as you'd think it would be), this guy looks at me and is all, beer and bananas? because I had bananas, too, obviously, and I was all, um, the organic crackers are next, and he was like, hrumph.

Had I been thinking, I could have been all, Super Bowl rager. We party hard. But I didn't think of that until way later.

Ah, well.

The end.