Pun Intended

Swept Off My Feet

I always knew I picked the wrong age group.  When I was younger, I wanted to work in a nursing home as something like a program director, but I ended up going the route of teacher, (obviously).  BIG MISTAKE. 

I went to my grandfather's nursing home this afternoon to eat watermelon with him at a summer party.  As I was carrying the plates of everyone at our table to the trash, (foam plates soaked and sloshing with watermelon juice, it's amazing my shirt is not pink), an elderly man stopped me and said, "Thank you, thank you.  I assumed that I was either carrying his plate, or he was senile, so I quickly replied, "You're welcome!"  Then he said, "I'm thanking you for improving the scenery."  Haha I'm so good at picking up older men! 

When I came back to the table he asked if he could sing me a "little tune," so I said sure.  He then, in perfect pitch, serenaded me with this:

I have an ear for music
And I have an eye for a maid
I link a pretty girlie
With each pretty tune that's played
They go together like sunny weather
Goes with the month of May
I've studied girls and music
So I'm qualified to say:

A pretty girl is like a melody
That haunts you night and day

Just like the strain of a haunting refrain
She'll start upon a marathon
And run around your brain

You can't escape, she's in your memory
By morning, night and noon

She will leave you and then come back again
A pretty girl is just like a pretty tune

- Irving Berlin

I told him no one had ever sang to me before, and he said, "Well, they should have a long time ago."  I think I found my new boyfriend!  Sorry, Michael.

What a beautiful compliment!   My whole week is made, now.

Sparklers, mini-dresses, and balsamic vinager

Sparklers that won't sparkle make Darcy sad. 

On the 4th of July, I had the most unexpected dessert of my very chocolate-oriented life.  I was at Eli's apartment, and his roommate, Scott, grilled peaches outside on their weber grill, (this fact is important in light of a story recalling my childhood, a weber grill, my first and last attempt at genuine rebellion, and the singed skin on the back of my hand - totally not related to this post), offered them to everyone as a dessert following an asparagus and chicken (both of which I'm sure were very good - but of course I didn't eat the chicken), dinner.  Being a pescan who misses grilled meat, I'm up for anything new and adventurous in the world of non-meat grilling and bar- b-que, so I was excited to try grilled peaches.  (Speaking of delicious grilled fruit - yum to pineapple!  And tomatoes, if you license them as a fruit.)

After they finished cooking, Scott took his peaches, (grilled in slices in the skin), back into his cavernous kitchen and starts making lots of noise with gas stove-top burners and ramekins.  The rest of us looked around, knitted our brows, and tried to ignore him from a lack of desire to help.  Hooray for social loafing!

When he brought out his dessert, it looked like peaches, ice-cream, and chocolate syrup, but the scent of vinegar had suddenly permeated the air of the living room.  Every one sniffed their little bowls, eyeing the food then eyeing Scott.  "It's balsamic vinegar," he announced, answering all of our unspoken questions.

It was WEIRD.  It was delicious.  He had put the grilled peach halves over vanilla ice cream, and then boiled, (reduced?  made a reduction of?) balsamic vinegar and poured it over the fruit and ice-cream.  It smelled like vinegar, but the overall flavor had a mild sweetness.  It felt like I was eating a sophisticated sundae, and it was so strange I felt the need to share the experience. 

Then we walked half way across Little Rock (from Hillcrest to some park overlooking the river) to stand behind a tree and watch, I mean, listen to fireworks.  And play with Matt's new iphone.  Loser.

In other pressing matters... would the practicality of my having just bought a brand new car be negated if I moved to New York City in 1-3 years?  Hm.  Tonight's combination of a diner and jazz makes me eager to stop talking about it and move there.  Wanderlust is difficult to live with.

So are all the cute dresses in the boutiques around here.  Stop tempting the money out of my wallet!  Oh, that's my hand...

They work!