Last night as Johnny and I got home from dinner, we were talking about our respective commutes (I win in the “Longer and More Complicated” category; feel free to ship a trophy). He must have referenced “my law firm,” because as we were walking up the outside steps to our apartment, our neighbors – who were sitting on their porch smoking [hopefully tobacco] – said, “Hey, are you a lawyer?” I don’t think we’ve formally met these neighbors yet, but there was no point in pretending that we hadn’t heard. Johnny acknowledged that he was, in fact, a lawyer (or most of a lawyer, in any case). “Oh…so do you do, like, criminal stuff?” Well. I’m kind of curious about what crimes have been committed, but the conversation pretty much stopped there since Johnny does not do “criminal stuff” and just referred them to his firm.
I’m almost done editing photos from the wedding I shot last month. Hopefully the long weekend will give me the last big block of editing time I need, and then I can have them out in the mail to the lovely couple. “Unfortunately,” my editing computer will be tied up tomorrow afternoon while it serves as our TV to watch…
Notre Dame football! I have to admit that the off-season was a necessary recovery period after the beyond-heartbreaking Championship game, but I’m ready to get back to my fall Saturday rituals.
To go back to the subject of wedding photos: ours arrived the day before our cross-country move, so I haven’t had a lot of time to sit down and get acquainted with them. I did manage to get a Facebook album put together last weekend, but I haven’t ordered any prints yet. That won’t stop me from shamelessly padding my post with photos.
For as I’ve known him, Johnny has pretty much lived off of pasta (he would literally eat it for every meal if he could). Given that he’s genetically disposed to celiac disease, all of our friends and family (and I, most of all) have made a running joke about him being a ticking timebomb of gluten-intolerance.
Irony of ironies, last week it was me who was suddenly laid low by the very suggestion of gluten. Yesterday I ate five animal crackers before I realized what I was doing, and that was a mistake that haunted me. I’m hoping it’s just a temporary fluke, but in the meantime, our usual meal planning has been turned on its head. My last grocery trip involved a lot “his and hers” groceries: flour tortillas for him, corn for me (blech); regular pasta for him, gluten-free (pictured above) for me. Johnny was immensely skeptical of my gluten-free pasta, but once it was cooked, even he agreed that it was virtually indistinguishable from regular. It’s nice to know there’s an acceptable option if he ever needs it, but at $3 for 12 oz, we’d have to re-work our budget on a long-term basis.
Johnny has been spending every evening blogging, and then I spend every morning before work editing his posts. Last week, in honor of the wildfire burning at Yosemite, he posted a hilarious retelling of our fateful visit last summer. One part that he didn’t mention: there was one point when we weren’t in danger of falling off a mountain, and decided to stop and walk through a meadow. Unfortunately, Johnny brought our excursion to a quick end when he squinted into the distance and said, “Hey, is that a mountain lion?”
What, you can’t see it? It’s that little blip in the very middle of the photo (maybe click to enlarge? Or maybe we were just delusional by that point). He tried to get me to follow him, saying, “Come on – let’s check it out! It’s probably just a tree.” My response was a very reasonable and definitely not-shrieking, “For the love of God, are you crazy?! Think about how that story would look in the newspaper!” So this photo is about as close to nature as we got that day.
What’s that? More wedding photos, you demand? Never let it be said I left you wanting more…
For more Quick Takes, visit Jennifer at Conversion Diary