Monet

 

and Miro decided to pose along side Pinky and Clyde. I am submitting this piece to the Worcester Art Museum's Art of the Macabre art show and needed to test to see that it would remain upright.

The piece was actually done as part of the homework for the 26 Seeds masterclass I took with Reggie Ezell in 2017.

When the original call for entries came out, I was busy with classes and didn't have time to do something brand-new. Then the Education Department extended the deadline for entries. I remembered this piece and decided to give it a new life. 

On a trip to the Dollar Store, I had purchased a doll for a Halloween decoration. Himself and I went back because I remembered there was a pink doll and an orange doll. They would make perfect heraldic supporters. 

There wasn't time to have the piece properly framed. I had a white mat and cut some chipboard for the backing. Standing up, the edges were rough so I covered the edges with Washi tape decorated with spider webs.  The dolls are attached to the piece by min-bulldog clips under their ghost sheets. The dolls, spider, and the ghosts from Pacman fame (right to left: Inky, Pinky, Blinky, and Clyde) all got a makeover with googly eyes.

The text is from a Scottish prayer:

From ghoulies and ghosties

And long-leggedy beasties

And things that go

bump in the night

Good Lord deliver us

How Does Your Garden Grow?

Waxing Gibbous Moon and cloud

Sunset the night before the Nor'easter. I thought because of the saying Red sky in the morning sailor take warning. Red sky at night, sailor's delight, this storm would fizzle out. 

Gusty winds blowing the Fall decorations didn't bother the goldfinch having a snack at the feeder. It's 4 pm Saturday as I write this. The storm was supposed to be furious at this hour. It isn't. I am not complaining. I wish the weather dudes wouldn't hype the storms.

Happy, Little, Time Waster

 

Pinwheel Gift Wrap

The Friday Five Good Things

 Five good things that happened this week.

1. Calli and Quill left me a gift.

2. I enjoyed an outing at the Dollar Store and Ocean State Job Lots. Himself knows the best places for a date.

3. A retired colleague surprised me in the museum lobby. She's taking a watercolor class. We'll be making arrangements to go out for coffee

4.  I thought I lost my sunglasses at the museum. I filled out a form for lost and found. At home, I found the sunglasses in the pocket of a different jacket I wore the week before and forgot about. I  felt so stupid when I told my friend at the security desk I found my glasses. She said join the club as she thought she had lost her phone.

5. Another trip to the Dollar Store with an idea for displaying an entry in the museum's Art of the Macabre show

How was your week?

TBT Reprints from CJ's Whine and Cheeze

  In 2003, Ma had a stroke. Dad was her full time caregiver until he he had a car accident that totaled the car. So in 2006, I became their chauffeur among other jobs.

At the time, to deal with the stress of running two households and working, I kept a blog entitled CJ's Whine and Cheeze. Egged on by some friends who enjoyed the first read through, you'll see your part when it comes by.

Saturday, December 22, 2007

Fun In The Snow

Late in the afternoon, The Young One and I had just finished digging my car out of the snow. Cold and tired we were anticipating a well deserved rest and a cup of hot chocolate when the phone rang. Even before I looked at the caller ID, I knew it was Prissy.

Prissy has her large circular driveway plowed, but the plower doesn't shovel her front walk or clean off her car.

"Does the Young One want to earn some money? I'll pay her to shovel my walk and brush off the car." she asked.

"We just finished digging my car out. Do you have a shovel because I broke my good one?"

"Yes, I have shovels and a broom to brush off the car with."

Ok, give us an hour and we'll come over to do yours."

An hour later, The Young One groaned as we pulled on our boots and grabbed gloves.

"Why does she have to have her car dug out now? She won't be going anywhere." said the Young One looking longingly at the laptop.

"I know, but old people are funny that way. They worry about things." I grabbed the crappy shovel and we crossed the street.

"What does she have to worry about?"

"If the snow isn't cleared she'll worry about things like, if she has a heart attack, how will the rescue people get to the front door? How will the oil delivery man deliver the heating oil? How will the electric company read the meter? Stuff like that."

The Young One made the classic teen face and sighed deeply. Her breath plumed in front of her. She took the crappy shovel and began digging out the back of the car.

Prissy came to the front door with shovels and a broom. I waded up the front walk and she handed them to me.

"I'll put my boots on and come out and help you."

"No, that's ok. We got it covered." The last thing I would need would be for Prissy to have a heart attack while shoveling her stairs. I patted my coat pocket to make sure I had my cell phone with me.

"I don't need the whole front walk shoveled," she said. "Just a path so I can get to the car."

I nodded.

A few minutes later, Prissy came out dressed in her coat, boots, hat and gloves.

"Here, let me help you."

"No! Get in the house!"

"Young One, brush the snow off the car this way." Prissy made motions with her mittened hands and started down the stairs.

"Will you get in the house! Go make me a cup of tea!"

Prissy took another step and started to open her mouth.

"Get in the @%$@# house before you slip and fall and break a hip." I played the trump card. "Go put the kettle on, I want a cup of tea."

Prissy mumbled something and went into the house.

The Young One snickered. "Dude," she called to me. "She just wants to help."

"I know, but the last thing we need is her telling us how to shovel or having to call 9-1-1 to have someone come and pick her butt out of the snow. Besides, if she was able to do this, she could have come out earlier in the day and done this instead of waiting until it was dark. Old people," I grumbled.

The Young One regarded me for a minute and nodded sagely.

Adventures of the Poor, Little Boob

 This journal is about my journey with DCIS which began in January 2024. Ductal Carcinoma in Situ. A form of breast cancer. I didn't tell many people. Family, a handful of close friends. I didn't even tell my bosses at the museum where I teach. Somewhere along the line after much prodding and poking, I decided the My DCIS Journey was too boring so retitled the journal Adventures of the Poor, Little Boob.

The Poor, Little Boob has been cancer-free since June 0f 2024, and still has another year of taking hormone therapy and being monitored by an oncologist. My target date for ending the medication and this journey is June1, 2027

Not knowing what to do. I called Dana-Farber and spoke to the new patient intake representative. I told her that the doctors' group had denied the referral and said they could take care of me. I didn't want to be taken care of by them.

She said the intake team verifies insurance before making appointments. She said Dana-Farber uses a red, yellow, green code. Like a traffic light. I was green coded as having insurance that was accepted. She also said I didn't need a referral. 

That afternoon we traveled to Dana-Farber in Boston to meet the surgeon. She discussed the surgery (lumpectomy) and possible treatments after surgery. She was very reassuring. 

T Stands for Back to the Route 104 Diner

Hash it out over breakfast. I love puns

The diner is an old-fashioned 1950s diner. 

I had a chicken gyro and home-made potato chips. I just noticed I forgot to take a picture of my drink which was probably an unsweetened ice tea with lemon. If you look at the picture of the counter and stools, behind the counter you can see the soft drink and ice tea dispenser.

The check was brought out on an old, vinyl 45 record along with two Tootsie Rolls (chocolate taffy kind of candy). We were trying to see if we could make out the title on either side of the record, but the label was too worn. After scrutinizing the label, I told Teague. Oh, I know this song. It goes like this:

The other side of the marquee. Don't go bacon my heart.

Drop by hosts, Bleubeard and Elizabeth's blog to find out what the rest of the T Stands For gang is up to. If you want to play, include in your Tuesday post a beverage or container for a beverage. Don't forget to link your blog to Bleubeard and Elizabeth's page.

Monet, Miro, and Me

 

are admiring a gift my student, "N", made for me. "N" is an incredibly, talented artist. This is the 5th class she has taken with me. What's astonishing about her talent is she just learned a Blackletter script this past Summer. Which means she taught herself this stunning variation!

The piece reads Valar Morghulis. It comes from Game of Thrones and means "all men must die". The typical response is Valar Dohaeris meaning "all men must serve."

"N", thank you so much for this incredible gift.

How Does Your Garden Grow?

Falling leaves

Me

Himself

the Eldest

Decorations by the wishing well,

the bird feeder

Petunia decked out as the Autumnal Equinox

The front walk

The Watcher

Deadheaded mums

Sunrise

How does your garden grow?

Happy, Little, Time Waster

 

Quick & Easy Circle Punch Flowers | Paper Crafting

The Friday Five Good Things

 

Five good things that happened this week.

1. Himself went out shopping and brought home a rotisserie chicken so I didn't have to cook. Thoughtful or well trained? 😉

2. A dreary, wet day. I enjoyed a cup of Gingerbread Joy tea

3. I finished prepping for all my classes

4. Museum classes began on Tuesday last.

5. Because of aches and pains 2 Old Ladies on the Road need to rename themselves Two Old Ladies on Ice Packs

TBT Reprints from CJ's Whine and Cheeze

  In 2003, Ma had a stroke. Dad was her full time caregiver until he he had a car accident that totaled the car. So in 2006, I became their chauffeur among other jobs.

At the time, to deal with the stress of running two households and working, I kept a blog entitled CJ's Whine and Cheeze. Egged on by some friends who enjoyed the first read through, you'll see your part when it comes by.

Sunday, December 16, 2007

The Day After

Friday, the day after the storm, I called the Weebles to see how they were doing and if they needed the driveway shoveled. Himself had packed a shovel in the trunk of his car and would stop at the Weebles after school to dig them out. Usually, one of the neighbors would snow blow the driveway for Dad, but just in case Himself would be prepared.

I called and the phone rang, and rang and rang. Ma doesn’t move fast and around the nineteenth ring she picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi, I called to see how you were doing. Did you get a lot of snow? Do you need the driveway shoveled?”

“HE’s out there doing it.”

“Who?”

“Your father.”

Silently, I said some choice phrases concerning Weebles, and I looked to the heavens” 🙄

“He shouldn’t be doing that.”

“I know, but he has to go singing.”

I forgot the day. Friday is the Goldenaires glee club rehearsal. Dad is McNamara, the leader of the band, and he’d sooner cut off his right arm then miss anything to do with singing.

His singing is a bone of contention for Ma. She’s jealous of his mobility. He gets out of the house every chance he can get. Either he walks to the Senior Center or one of his “ladies” comes to pick him up. That’s another sore point, the ladies. While Dad is out and about, Ma can’t have him under her thumb.

“He shouldn’t be out shoveling,” I preached to the choir. I wasn’t sure if Dad’s bit of stupidity had to do with his OPD of singing, a death wish, or a combination of both. Most likely, the death wish. If he dropped dead from a heart attack in the middle of the driveway, he’d show her! “Himself will stop by after school to shovel.”

“No, he has his own work to do.”

“But…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll fix HIM.”

I knew she meant Dad and not Himself.

“What will you do?”

“If he moves one toe over the driveway to go singing, I’ll lock him out.”

I laughed. She would too. I remembered a story I heard as a kid. Dad had been out at some Knights of Columbus event. Ma had imposed a Cinderella curfew. In by midnight or else. Midnight came and went with no sign of Dad. She locked both front and back storm doors so he couldn’t get in. He spent the night in the car.

I sent Himself an email. C’mon home. The driveway will be taken care of. I didn’t add and so will Dad.

Adventures of the Poor, Little Boob

 This journal is about my journey with DCIS which began in January 2024. Ductal Carcinoma in Situ. A form of breast cancer. I didn't tell many people. Family, a handful of close friends. I didn't even tell my bosses at the museum where I teach. Somewhere along the line after much prodding and poking, I decided the My DCIS Journey was too boring so retitled the journal Adventures of the Poor, Little Boob.

The Poor, Little Boob has been cancer-free since June 0f 2024, and still has another year of taking hormone therapy and being monitored by an oncologist. My target date for ending the medication and this journey is June1, 2027

I was trying not to stress out over no information about whether my insurance would cover treatment at Dana-Farber Cancer Institute where I wanted to be treated. Dana-Farber had scheduled a date for my surgery on March 1, 2024 and a meeting with the surgeon on February 5. What to do? What to do?

I borrowed one of the Reiki tenets for Reiki a spiritual practice established by its founder, Dr. Mikao Usui.

Just for today I will not worry.

T Stands for Thanksgiving in August

 

After a visit to urgent care, a pizza lunch, and an afternoon at the motel pool. the Two Old Ladies on the Road decided to treat ourselves to a real dinner. We went to the popular Hart's Turkey Farm Restaurant in Meredith, New Hampshire.

I can't remember if it was last year we were there or the year before, but we had their amazing Thanksgiving turkey sandwich called The Gobbler. Real roasted turkey, cranberry sauce, stuffing, gravy on a brioche bun. This year we went all out for the Thanksgiving dinner. 

The waiter, the same one who served us lunch last time, started us off with drinks, I had my usual unsweetened ice tea with lemon. He also brought a delicious, house relish served with crackers. It was hard not to wolf down the relish and crackers because it was so good, but it would also mean not being able to finish dinner. He also brought bread (my downfall) and cornbread. My self-imposed rule on this trip was not bringing leftovers back to the hotel.

We both had ordered the small dinner which came with 3.5 ounces of turkey though it still looked like a lot more. There was also cranberry sauce, stuffing, and gravy. Because eating for the week was mostly going to be pizza, burgers, ice cream, I decided to get a vegetable, green beans, and a plain jacket potato.

We finished dinner and there was no room for dessert. We rolled ourselves back to our little cabin on the hill.

Drop by hosts, Bleubeard and Elizabeth's blog to find out what the rest of the T Stands For gang is up to. If you want to play, include in your Tuesday post a beverage or container for a beverage. Don't forget to link your blog to Bleubeard and Elizabeth's page.

Monet and

 

Miro helped me figure out dimensions to make a log cabin quilt square for a future lesson for the art journaling class I am teaching. The quilt square is paper because I can't sew. 😊

How Does Your Garden Grow?

Changing leaves

I love the colors of the faded hydrangea

The tomato jungle

Tiny pumpkins

Oh, my Gourd!

Himself bought me a broom. He was a little worried I'd be upset that he thought I was a witch. I said, I'm not upset. I come from a long line of Stregas (Italian witches). My mother, her mother, the mother before her...I'm proud of it. Next will be a trip to the Dollar Store to pick up some sort of Fall doodad for it. Oh, the broom is also redolent of cinnamon.

I changed out the Spring/Summer flowers for Fall

The Fall garden flag

A dragonfly on the ragweed that's causing Himself so much grief. The ragweed is causing Himself grief not the dragonfly.

Asters and a pink dianthus

More tomatoes

A giant marigold

Either a green bowling ball or a little watermelon

Brown-eyed Susans and morning glories

Peaches!

How does your garden grow?

Happy, Little, Time Waster

 

My cat went to the neighbours to borrow a tiger plush toy :)

The Friday Five Good Things

CJ Kennedy (She/Her)

Studio Programs Faculty

Worcester Art Museum  |  worcesterart.org  |  (508) 793-4333

55 Salisbury Street  |  Worcester, MA 01609 

 Five good things that happened this week.

1. I was sad to learn my colleague and blog buddy, Andy T. Fish passed away after fighting two rare blood cancers. Andy was a patient and awesome teacher. He was a most excellent, blog buddy, too. I'm glad I had the opportunity to know him. Godspeed, Andy.

2. Three of the four classes I put in to teach are running.

3. The museum informed staff that we all have to have the same signature in our emails so we match the new branding of the museum. I was able to get the new signature to work. I am insufferably pleased with myself.

4. It was such a nice day on my weekly visit to Teague, we decided to eat lunch outside. We had lunch at the Outpost Turkey Farm.

5. Besides eating outside, I also bought a couple of Apple Cider donuts. I had one with my afternoon tea. It was so fresh!

How was your week?

TBT Reprints from CJ's Whine and Cheeze

  In 2003, Ma had a stroke. Dad was her full time caregiver until he he had a car accident that totaled the car. So in 2006, I became their chauffeur among other jobs.

At the time, to deal with the stress of running two households and working, I kept a blog entitled CJ's Whine and Cheeze. Egged on by some friends who enjoyed the first read through, you'll see your part when it comes by.

Sunday, December 16, 2007

White Rabbit Appointment

Another doctor’s appointment. I arrived early per usual. Thought I would have a chance at visiting for a little bit, a chance for redemption in case the doctor kept them waiting and I had to leave after dropping them off at the house. We had a half an hour before we had to leave for the appointment. Ma was getting herself dressed. Dad wanted me to take a look at the computer.

“They won’t give me anything,” he explained.

“They” as if there are elves in the machine.

“They won’t give me my email. I put my password in, but they won’t let me do anything.”

I booted up his computer. Listened for the happy chime of the Windows logo. Signed onto his ISP with his password and was rewarded with his home page and the email preview.

With him looking over my shoulder, we sorted through his inbox.

In the middle of this, Ma came upstairs and went into the room across the landing which she turned into a sewing room. Dad got very paranoid.

“What’s she doing up here?”

I found Ma standing in front of her industrial Wilcox and Gibbs sewing machine fumbling with some thread. Ma was a seamstress and this antique machine was her baby.

“What are you doing?”

“I have to fix my pants.”

“We have to leave for your appointment in 15 minutes. Your appointment is at quarter to 11” I wasn’t sure why she didn’t fix her pants the say before when she had all day to sew, but questioning her was only going to get me yelled at.

“Here, thread the machine.” She gave me the navy thread.

I can’t sew. I can’t sew on a button to save my life, let alone thread a machine. Ma made me take sewing in jr. high school. (I wanted to take technical drawing, but that’s another story) I hated sewing and the sewing teacher. She wasn’t thrilled with me either and gave me a “C” because she knew my mother was a seamstress. Ma remade my dress at the end of the year so it could be worn.

I held the end of the thread as if it was a snake.

“Here put it through this guide.”

She made it sound so easy and it probably was if I could see the damn eye to the guide. I got the thread close a couple of times.

“Through here,” she yelled.

“I’m trying! I can’t see the damn hole!” The blind leading the blind.

“You have your glasses on!”

“Just because I have my glasses on doesn’t mean I can see!” I tilted my head this way and that trying to find the correct focal point in the bifocals.

“You’re doing it wrong!”

“I’m trying! Stop yelling at me!” The thread slipped through the first guide. Two more guides and then through the #$%@#! eye of the needle.

“Now through here!”

With shaky hands, I tried again.

Ma was breathing down my neck.

“No! Here!”

“Stop yelling at me! If you think you can do better, here!” I dropped the end of the thread.

“I didn’t ask for your help!”

“Yes, you did! You said ‘Here, thread the machine.’ I picked up the end of the thread and shoved it through the next two guides. I was worried about threading the needle without an electron microscope there was no way I would be able to see the eye of the needle.

I was too busy concentrating on the guides that I didn’t really see what Ma did. She had the end of the bobbin thread.

“Tie a square knot!”

I took the end of the bobbin thread and the thread through the guide. Right over left…

“It has to be a square knot!”

I bit my tongue and finished left over right and pulled the square knot taut.

She pulled on the bobbin thread. I was skeptical, but the navy thread flew through the eye of the needle. Ma grunted with satisfaction, pulled her chair out to sit down to her sewing.

I went back across the hall to Dad’s office.

“What’s she doing?”

“She’s sewing her pants.”

Dad started sputtering and rolled his eyes.

I told him I wanted to do some housekeeping on the machine, and he went downstairs. I cleaned out the temporary files. I also thought the problem he was having getting into his account was due to the old DSL access still in his tool tray. He was probably trying to sign on through that account which no longer exists so I happy deleted the programs.

I only had one point of contention with the FIOS ISP and that was virus security. Under the DSL account, the virus protection program was free. FIOS offered a 30 day trial subscription to Norton. Now, I pay $40 a month for “them” not “to give him anything” and I don’t want to pay an additional fee for him not to turn the computer on.

I wasn’t worried as there are plenty of free virus protection programs. AVG, Avast, Panda. They all work equally well. I downloaded Avast and in the middle of the download encountered a Windows error. Tried again. Same problem. Tried Panda. Same problem. What the… Checked his log in account to make sure he had administrator privileges. Yup, that was ok. Maybe I’d have to reinstall Windows.

It was now quarter to 11 and Dad with hat and coat on came upstairs.

We could hear the whirr of Ma’s sewing machine.

“Take your hat and coat off,” I said. “It’s going to be awhile.”

“But we’re going to be late.”

“I know.” I shut down the computer. I wasn't worried about the computer not having virus protection. Dad doesn't turn it on often enough for a viral invasion and because "they" don't give him his email, he's pretty much protected.

Dad started to sputter and was heading across the hall for a confrontation with Ma. I grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Look, yelling at her to hurry isn’t going to change anything. Her little trolley won’t slip the track.” I thought of the way The Brother let's Weeble aggravation roll off his back with an oh, wow. 'Oh,wow. We missed an appointment.' No worries.

“Why didn’t she sew yesterday?” He was gearing up to explode.

I shrugged. “Look, calm down. If she misses the appointment, you can schedule another, and I’ll take you.”

Dad looked at his watch. “Maybe I better tell them we’re going to be late.”

“Good idea.”

The appointment was rescheduled and Dad put the kettle on for tea.

Ma came downstairs. “I’m ready to go now.”

“You missed the appointment and it’s been rescheduled,” I said.

She looked at the clock.

“Your appointment was at quarter to 11,” I added.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I did, but you had to sew your pants.”

“Hmm,” Ma sniffed indignantly. “That doctor wouldn’t even wait for me. Why didn’t he wait for me?”

I laughed. Ever La Signora, The Lady. “He has other patients and can’t wait until you’re good and ready to grant the doctor an audience.”

Ma made lunch and Dad and I sipped our tea in the living room.

“Come set the table,” Ma yelled. Dad and I both jumped as we didn’t know which one of us she was commanding.

She brought 3 cheeseburgers to the table.

I frowned.

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t like cheese.”

“Since when?”

I laughed. “Since forever. Don’t you remember when I was at St. Pat’s when it was grilled cheese day, Mrs. Burns [a neighbor who was the head dietician at the parochial school] would stop the lunch line and bring me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich so the nuns wouldn’t yell at me for wasting the grilled cheese sandwich I wouldn’t eat?”

“I’m sorry, I forgot.”

“Don’t worry about it.” We sat down, ate lunch and had a nice visit.

On the ride home I was congratulating myself for being so calm about the missed appointment. Surely, I must have risen to the eighth level of Hell for not losing my temper. Maybe even a small gem for my heavenly crown. I patted myself on the back. A thought struck me and my elation sank. Pride is the worse of the Seven Deadly Sins. Lucifer committed the sin of pride and fell. Being so smug about how I didn’t lose my temper was hubris. Oh, well, back to the ninth level of Hell.

Adventures of the Poor, Little Boob

  This journal is about my journey with DCIS which began in January 2024. Ductal Carcinoma in Situ. A form of breast cancer. I didn't tell many people. Family, a handful of close friends. I didn't even tell my bosses at the museum where I teach. Somewhere along the line after much prodding and poking, I decided the My DCIS Journey was too boring so retitled the journal Adventures of the Poor, Little Boob.

The Poor, Little Boob has been cancer-free since June 0f 2024, and still has another year of taking hormone therapy and being monitored by an oncologist. My target date for ending the medication and this journey is June1, 2027

Apparently, asking for a referral from the medical group my doctor belongs to opened up a can of worms.

Dana-Faber Cancer Institute, where I wanted to be treated, told me I didn't need a referral. They had checked the insurance and accepted it.

The medical group said they would be treating me and denied the referral to Dana-Farber.

At the time, I wasn't able to get through to the insurance company.

The administrative red tape just felt like I would be jumping through so many hoops.

T Stands for Anniversary Dinner

 

Our plans for our anniversary dinner began at the dentist for a routine check-up and cleaning. Happily, I made it in to the No Cavity Club. Himself did not.

For dinner, we decided to travel a few towns further east to Wayland and Giacomo's Restaurant. We've eaten here before.

The waiter brought amazing bread. I was going to order a  Prosecco, but they only sold it by a split (2 glasses). Himself doesn't drink alcohol and I knew it would be lights out after one glass of wine let alone two. I ordered a glass of White Zinfadel instead.

We ordered an antipasto

On special was lobster and shrimp in gravy (sauce) and you could have the gravy 4 different ways. Chef's Special, Traditional Lobster, Marinara, and I forget the fourth way. We were both thinking of ordering the special, but I had to have a conversation with our waiter first.

The special was served over home-made fusilli. I needed to know if it was real fusilli (which is long, curly noodles resembling old telephone cord) or if it was short, more like rotini. Shape and size does matter.

The waiter assured me the noodles were the correct length. I ordered mine with the traditional lobster sauce (Ma made lobster tails and linguini for Christmas Eve Dinner. The dish was the short version of the Feast of the 7 Fishes because the Brother and I hated the traditional fish dishes). Himself had the Chef's Special which turned out to be a little heavy handed with the crushed, red pepper.

Himself had been trying to watch the Red Sox (baseball) game in the reflection of a mirror. The waiter was kind enough to run back to the television to check the score for Himself and even gave him a play by play.

The food was very good and I was surprised how busy and loud the restaurant was on a Wednesday night. Then I smiled. Loud talking. Typical for Italian household.

Drop by hosts, Bleubeard and Elizabeth's blog to find out what the rest of the T Stands For gang is up to. If you want to play, include in your Tuesday post a beverage or container for a beverage. Don't forget to link your blog to Bleubeard and Elizabeth's page.