Holy moly, I slept in until 10am today.
In San Diego time that's 8am, but still. Of course the girls went to bed at midnight and I went to bed at 1am, but still. That's 8am (or 10am)!
Against Michael's protestations, we've sucessfully done nothing so far today. He tried to do something -- had some crazy notion about going downtown -- but I nixed that. Instead, we spent a rather enjoyable morning going through old boxes of family memorabilia. At one point we found an old box marked "Elizabeth Weber Momentos 1983." I had to stare at it for a while before it dawned on me it wasn't our Elizabeth, but Michael's grandmother. Here are some random photos from our morning excavation.
The Punch Up
Lizzy had an idea for a restaurant, The Punch Up, that serves healthy, energetic food primarily in lines and circle shapes, i.e. spaghetti and meatballs, pancakes, etc. She hired Papa to work in her kitchen making his specialty, Fruit Salad. She plans to hire a million-year old giant to paint the sign above her restaurant that will be "on the corner".
By the way, if you want to know what Papa looks like, here is Lizzy's rendition of him:
He respectfully disagrees.
Wonderful, Glorious Food
My mom asked me, "What did you mean yesterday in your blog that you're worried about being hungry on the airplane?"
That's because I've learned that travel days are usually the worst food days -- and I mean that in every sense of the word. Not only is food scarce on airlines, but it's also such CRAP. Yesterday on American, our options were an Asian Chicken wrap, Snickers bars, Potato Chips, or a Giant Oatmeal cookie. Of course, they only brought 14 Asian Chicken wraps on the plane and since we could wad up a piece of paper and hit the rear bathrooms with it, we missed out on the wraps. Which means we filled up on cookies and chips. Which, after all these years I've finally learned, makes me feel "icky". Bad food means I actually feel bad, which is ultimately a good thing I suppose.
That's why, at 9:45pm (15 minutes before closing), we warily walked into an Italian restaurant carrying two sleepy girls. We filled up on homemade bread and olive oil, garlicky caesar salads, and heaps of pasta.
Glorious.
A Final Note About Nothing
A big, fat squirrel just ran across the yard littered with yellow Maple leaves. Now he sits in the elbow of a Purple Leaf Plum tree. It's 43 degrees outside. Elizabeth is hiding Easter Eggs throughout the house. Michael is napping on the couch, surrounded by Easter baskets.
I just love autumn in Chicago.
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