Heya friends! How was your weekend?
We had a really nice, relaxing one over here. I got to run both days (fall weather = AMAZING running conditions), found time to catch up on my NASM studying, WON my fantasy football game (!), made (and ate) these chocolate chip cheesecake bars, and hung out with some new neighbors (who have a 2 1/2 year old son!).
And those are just the things I don’t have pictures of.
On Friday night, we had a few friends over for a backyard bonfire.
Well…a small, carefully contained city fire, anyway.
We also had some other friends staying over that night on their way to a wedding, so I had an excuse to bust out my Trader Joe’s pumpkin pancakes on Saturday morning. The reviews were good!
After Mason’s nap that day, we headed out for a family walk…which turned into a family Target trip…which ended up in a frantic stroller-sprint home when it started raining while we were shopping. Hate when that happens.
The rain ended up putting the kibosh on my genius anniversary date night plan of sitting by the lake and then wandering around downtown (womp womp), so we ended up doing the standard dinner-and-drinks thing.
For dinner, we tried out a new-to-us oyster bar/seafood place called Tempest.
We loved the ship-like décor. Very Moby Dick. (Or, umm, the Tempest. Probably.)
I told Brent I wouldn’t mind having a room in our house decorated like this (“nautical chic”??), and he looked concerned.
I mean, fine, I wouldn’t put the harpoons on the wall.
Now, brace yourself for a string of excruciatingly bad low-light pics, courtesy of my phone…
We wouldn’t typically order oysters (there’s something unnatural about that whole oyster sucking thing…plus, I love scallops) but we figured we were at an oyster bar, so when in Rome…
They were smothered in spinach and bacon, and tasted like…spinach and bacon. (Which is never a bad thing.)
For our entrees, Brent got the lobster roll, and I went for the crusted whitefish with corn, leeks, and buttermilk.
Maaan…of all the pics, I thought that one actually turned out!
The fish was perfectly cooked and very light—exactly what I was going for—but not as flavorful as I’d hoped. Brent wasn’t that impressed with his lobster roll, either—but then, all of our lobster roll experiences so far have come from BOSTON.
However, my super overpriced glass of wine? Perfection.
On the way out, we thought we’d take advantage of the obvious photo op setup in the entryway to work on our entry to the Worst Phone Camera Pic in History contest.
I was convinced we had a winner, but then we moved on to a bar and somehow topped it with this gem:
The graininess!! The lack of color!! The eerily glowing foreheads!!
We stopped by a German-themed bar called the Come Back In specifically so that I could get my hands on some Strawator (the amazing strawberry beer I tried in Boston).
Sad news: apparently, it’s a seasonal beer—and apparently, not this season.
But we had fun anyway, and got to watch the Badger football game (we lost…actually pretty badly…but STILL).
Yesterday, we had a HUGE victory: Mason’s first meltdown-free church nursery experience! FINALLY! I kept waiting for our number to pop up on the nursery monitor during the service, like it has the last seeeeveral times we’ve tried to take him, but this time: SUCCESS! No tears!
I think part of the reason might be that he’s now moved out of the nursery room and into the toddler room (18 months+), where they have more of the toys he’s into (aka cars and trucks). They also start teaching lessons at this age—which is insanely ambitious, I think, considering how young and distractible the kids still are.
Then, we experienced a monumental parenting moment: when we picked him up, we were handed his very first ever in-class “craft project” (a paper bag with 3 stickers on it, which I doubt he applied himself—haha).
I guess this means it’s time to purchase the ginormous plastic tub I’ll fill with school papers and artwork for the next 17 years. It’ll be the same one that, after he graduates college, I’ll spend 5-10 years trying to get him to come home and pick up. And he’ll keep “forgetting.” And then I’ll eventually have to throw it all away in a big, emotional, hoarders-style decluttering effort.
And now I’m sitting here dreading a hypothetical moment 30-40 years in my future.
Tell me something about your weekend!