OK, I sort of lied about the wild and crazy
Can you believe that I, couch potato extraordinaire, have been too busy to blog?? Not crazy busy, just little bits of busy here and there that haven't left much time in between.
So yes, please forgive me for leading you on, but last weekend wasn't really wild and crazy at all. On Saturday we dropped Boy11 off at the in-laws for an overnighter so he and Oma could get up early and watch the Schützenfest parade on Sunday. Late Saturday afternoon Boy14 headed out to his end-of-year class party which was held at a classmate's farm in the next town. A few of the kids, including Boy14, stayed the night, sleeping in a barn and coming home looking like they hadn't slept at all. More than a few of the kids, also including the big guy, must have gotten hold of some dodgy potato salad too, because 11 of them stayed home from school on Monday with stomach aches.
Anyway, Mr. M and I couldn't get over the fact that we were actually kidless and had the whole of Saturday evening and right on into Sunday all to ourselves. So we did what most old married couples do on Saturday nights. We went shopping.
We really just wanted to pick up something nice for dinner, but you know how it is, one thing led to another and along with a couple of nice steaks to throw on the grill we came home with...
...a pair of new shoes for me
...and a new table for the terrace
Oh, and some lawn fertilizer. Can't get much more exciting than that, can you?
On Sunday a friend of mine and her 4-yr-old had planned to come over for the day, but she cancelled at the last minute, and I was, ahem, sort of glad since I had a million other things I really needed to do. We've since made another date that suits us both better.
I had almost forgotten that it was Canada Day on Sunday. There was still time to make pie, though, and I made one with some cherries from the mother-in-law's garden. Our handy dandy cherry pitting device made short work of those babies, but thinking I didn't have enough I also added a few stewed cherries to the pie. Those were given to us by a friend of the in-laws and I hadn't checked to see if they were pitted or not before I threw them into the pie. They weren't. There's no accounting for German logic. Damn. Had to get my grubby mitts in there and pick out what I could before baking, but Mr. M managed to get his fair share. He loved his pie, but he HATES cherry pits and other hard foreign objects in his food with a passion. It's a running joke around our house that if if there's even one pit in a cherry pie, cake or compote, he's ALWAYS the one to get it. Poor baby. And let's not even mention The Roasted Chestnut Incident of 1991. I'll tell you about that another time.
As Canadian as cherry pie?
More later on the busy week that followed...