Apr
02
2010
I have around a million things to tell you about England---which is where I still am, incidentally, stuffing myself with Easter chocolate---and about Paris too, and you will find that most of them involve food, which will probably not come as much of a surprise, but those things will have to wait, because today, as part of my second foray into Putting It All Together, we are going to talk about giving back.
I've decided that perhaps I would be super awesome at having a baby. Not because of any increasing maternal instincts or anything, but because the first thing people always tell you about having a baby is how sleep-deprived you're going to be, and I have become rather adept at handling sleep deprivation over the years that I've traveled.
Look, it's not that Sean and I eat badly: neither of us is partial to fast food (with the exception of the odd In-N-Out burger, of course, otherwise we'd have our California driver's licenses taken away.) On the contrary, we eat pretty well: we both like salads, we both like vegetables, we both understand the direct correlation between butter/cheese/bacon and the sudden inability to wear anything in our closets without wincing uncomfortably.
First of all, thank you all so much for your recipes and dinner suggestions. Wow, that sentence made me sound like Betty Draper!
I wasn't going to write about this---it seemed not so much tempting fate as jumping around with my arms in the air, shouting HEY FATE! OVER HERE!---but I find that I can't actually think about anything else at the moment, so consumed am I with the fact that we put in an offer on a house today. The house is wonderful and perfect. The house is everything we've been looking for and more.
Don't get too excited, though: we're not going to get it.
Well, despite all your kind wishing and hoping---seriously, I think I felt the axis of the earth shift as you all crossed your fingers at the same time---we didn't get the Dream House in the end. I pretty much knew we wouldn't get the Dream House, it must be said. What I didn't know, however, was how badly we wouldn't get the Dream House.
First of all, I should tell you that I am a person who believes in ghosts. I do! I believe in ghosts! I'm sorry! So sue me! I'm a person who believes so much in ghosts, in fact, that if you are not a person who believes in ghosts and you say, out loud, "I am not a person who believes in ghosts," I will actually get worried for you. "Don't say it out loud!" I will hiss.
I apologize for the indelicate nature of what I am about to say next---and in particular to any parents or in-laws who do not have time to stick their fingers in their ears before reading it---but holy shitballs, I think we just bought a house.
WE JUST BOUGHT A HOUSE.
