And, if one is patient, sometimes hope triumphs over experience:
My "'cause she loves me" flowers, from D.
I Eastered at my friend Laurie's house. Ate too much (duh, a given). Contributed a vat of my mom's Pistachio Salad, which is a sort of fruit salad held together with pistachio pudding mix. It sounds weird but it's fantastic and totally reminds me of home. Most of the afternoon was spent with BMOC-Chris, with whom I engaged in an intellectual pissing contest.
BMOC: "So. You're the one that people go to with pronunciation questions, huh? What are you, a journalism major?"
Amy: "Um, no. I've got a History degree."
From across the room, Laurie pipes up, "What?! 'A' History degree? You've got two of 'em!"
BMOC: "[sigh] Two of 'em, hmm? What, two B.S.'s? Heh heh."
Laurie: "She has a Master's degree in History."
Pat: [coming down the stairs] "...and she's a lawyer."
BMOC & Amy, together: [sigh]
BMOC and I also talked golf. I'm sort of into golf, or at least I was until I happily surrendered the trappings of married life, which included the satellite dish (and the DirecTV bill). But I still know my way around the PGA Tour better than most guys. And that didn't make Frat Man very happy.
It wasn't pretty.
BMOC has a couple of kids. One of them is a 4-y-o named Johnny. Cuter than a bug's ear. He took a liking to me, and would not leave my side for anything. Now, I can take that for a while, but generally I need to warm up to kids. And there was no warming up to Johnny. He loved me from the word Go. It was rather terrifying. I just hope that he forgot all about me once he and the fam departed, because I'd imagine that neither of the adults really wanted to ponder my existence any longer. BMOC because I'd so clearly won the pissing contest, and BMOC's wife because I think she took the fact that we had our [proverbial] dicks in our hands for most of the afternoon to symbolize something other than the fact that mine is bigger than his.
Nope, not pretty. Not making any friends there. 'Cept with Johnny.
Incidentally, I wore my "Easter eggish" sweater to the party. Not a bad choice, given the events that occurred. Not too tight, not at all low-cut, and "festive" enough that the oldsters liked it. But still fun and kind of irreverent, for someone who certainly didn't spend the morning in church.
I think it's time to start looking for beads online. I can't even believe that I wrote that. What a nightmare! Like I don't spend enough on that sort of thing already. But I've been looking for matte blue (midnight or navy) seed beads for ages and can't find anything even close to what I want, in any of the local shops. Although it occurs to me that I haven't tried the place in Geneva...so prehaps.... Yeah, I'll go there before I take the leap into online browsing. So much danger in the online world.
'K. Back to work.