I don’t care what you say — I think this is a balanced meal. Look, you’ve got your dairy (cheese dip) and your grains (tortilla chips). Hot peppers are full of nutritional stuff, and didn’t I read somewhere that beer is pretty much almost nearly just as good for you as red wine? And of course, you can never have too much salsa. This is an example of the weekly date night my husband and I cling to no matter what else is going on. But not just any Mexican restaurant will do. We head to a specific one that we’ve gone to for years. In fact, the waiters don’t even ask us what we want anymore — they’ve practically got it on the table as soon as we sit down. My husband pours the beers and squeezes the limes and always makes sure I get the coldest mug as we munch chips and dip. Sometimes we order actual food. Sometimes not. But we always have a good time.
Random thought — Welcome back, Tiger Woods. Hope your knee is better.
Blog recommendation — For a different take on Lent, visit today’s post at A Day That Is Dessert , http://www.leciawphinney.com/. Lecia passes on a wonderful Lent idea from her pastor. Don’t miss it.
I love this pic, on the left, of my daughter, her husband and their baby — my grandson, Capt. Adorable. I took it this past Sunday at their church’s Baby Day, which is a Sunday once a year when the church honors all its babies born in the past 12 months. That’s not a giant baby head behind my daughter — each baby had its own photo on display, and of course Capt. Adorable’s was the best. In my opinion. This photo clearly shows why everybody says Capt. Adorable and his daddy look so much alike. And I loved my daughter’s outfit. You’d never guess that she’s wearing a maternity sweater — she wisely bought some clothes when she was pregnant she could wear later, too. I’ve seen very unpregnant women wear this same style. During church the honorees sat in the front with family members behind them. Even though I amused myself by trying to catch Capt. Adorable’s eye during the service, but he wisely paid no attention to me. He’ll change his mind, though, when I’m the one who’ll let him eat candy and french fries.
There were just two of us for Sunday school so we didn’t have class at my little church this past Sunday, but I learned a lesson anyway: (K)not all sermons come from the pulpit. When I got to church on Sunday morning and it became apparent only one other of the usual five or six women in our class was going to show, I contemplated going home for more coffee and Sunday New York Times. But before I could head for the door, our minister asked the two of us (our church is small so there’s no place to hide!) to finish a prayer quilt from the women’s group. The quilt is for a church member who’s fighting cancer, and our minister wanted to bless it at the service and deliver it that afternoon. My brain said, “But I have no crafting skill whatsoever and besides, I want Sunday Styles and another cappuccino,” but my mouth said, “Sure! Of course! Love to!” That happens a lot at church. But I was so glad — this time, at least — that my mouth paid no attention to my brain. Turned out all the quilt needed was tying some knots, and I’m very good at tangling things up. Our church women’s group makes these prayer quilts for people who are sick and in need — when you tie one of knots you say a prayer for the intended recipient, who then gets to wrap up in cozy warmth and love. As we tied and talked, I suddenly sort of time-traveled back to old-fashioned quilting bees, where women gathered to care for each other through fabric and friendship, and I finally understood the timeless power of needle and thread. To make it even better, this quilt was for the husband of a friend of mine. I sat beside her during the church service. When our pastor blessed the quilt and announced it was for her husband, I got to hand her a tissue and give her a hug. Definitely worth the loss of a second cappuccino.