Hi Chipmunks! I went to the zoo on Saturday.
Jealous? You should be. Here’s what happened.
It’s Rachel’s Table‘s birthday!
Rachel is a fellow blogger I’m lucky enough to call a real-life friend, though we met through the magical blogosphere.
Back in April, when I celebrated my
31st 21st birthday, Rachel gathered a bunch of bloggy friends to write haikus for me.
I’m sorry. I don’t know where the “chocolate bacon” came from.
I think about Rachel all the time.
I thought of Rachel when I texted my hub, Peppermeister, about Monday night’s dinner:
I thought of Rachel when I made last night’s dinner, and Peppermeister left me a bowl of his mysterious homegrown peppers. Surely I couldn’t put any in the bacon turkey meatloaf without trying them first?
I’m not sure your present has arrived, Rache, so spoiler alert: It’s to recognize your Peppermeister Roulette (hot pepper tasting) victory against the man himself:
In all seriousness, Rachel is one of those undeniably special people who is not only talented, beautiful and clever, but
always knows just what to say to let you know she’s there for you, and she gets it she’ll totally hook you up with the Amish bacon. I hope you’ll join me in wishing her a VERY happy birthday!
If you had to wear someone’s face on your chest, whose would it be (besides Rachel’s) and why? (Bet you didn’t think you’d be answering that question today.)
***Psst: This is my 300th post! So you really should like it and leave a glowing comment. I don’t even care if you read it.***
So I’m married to this guy they call Peppermeister.
Which means I like peppers. A lot.
All kidding aside, I’ve learned to embrace my beloved’s hobby of growing insanely spicy peppers. This past weekend, I even agreed to go to Bower’s Chile Pepper Festival in eastern Pennsylvania.
We took his car, since mine decided it’s done with life.
For $5, we found a sweet parking spot a couple of blocks away. In an Amish man’s yard. I appreciated both his entrepreneurial nature and his lawn accessories.
We had no idea what to expect, but the festival was jalapeño–poppin’. There were plenty of vendors touting everything from mild pepper mustards and jams and homegrown delights…
…to “butt-puckering” demon-peppers:
Mostly, I tried not to lose Peppermeister amid his people.
I even partook in the madness.
But my two favorite moments had nothing to do with peppers. Not really, anyway.
“She just wanted the attention,” Peppermeister, the Psych major, said on the ride home. “Did you notice she wouldn’t eat it until everyone was watching?”
“I gave her a lot of attention. I told her she was insane. I thought she’d like it.”
“She didn’t want the attention of WOMEN.”
We took a wagon ride over to the nearby pepper farm, and they left it up to the passengers to decide how many could fit on the wagon.
“I think we should sit on opposite sides so both legs are touching strangers,” Peppermeister joked while we waited on line.
He never could have imagined a woman would squeeze herself onboard…and on his lap. Without a single word.
What are your favorite “people watching” places and/or moments?