Friday, March 23, 2012
The Friday is not what it seems.
Then work happened. It's almost midnight, so there isn't much point in rehashing my dirty, rotten, no-good day, but I can tell you it didn't involve a lunch break. Mike was home when I got home--Trader Joe's pineapple and tuscan pane in hand--busily making us pastina with egg and frying up some lumpia. We ate on the porch, guarding our napkins from the insistent breeze.
At nine we walked over to the library hoping the lights at the tennis courts would be on, but it looks like they don't come on during months that should still technically be winter. We tossed the frisbee around until my fingers hurt then walked home. Mike's birthday's coming up in May. I'm thinking of buying him a big house with a wraparound porch and tennis courts. Or maybe just a trip to a rock climbing wall and a homemade peanut butter cake. It's a toss up.