Yes, it’s true. It all started last week, when my kids headed back east with their grandparents for a little R&R. Or a candy-laden, amusement-park–bowling alley–movie watching-kind of week. Whatever. My husband and I headed to the nearby ski hill that night because we enjoy skiing in July. Nope, that’s not really why. I’m not that crazy, people! No, we headed north sans ski gear because in a moment of sheer genius, someone in charge of our local symphony decided years ago that people would pay good money to sit outside on the ski hill in the summer and listen to them play. And, man, were they on the money. We made the first trip ten years ago, and have only missed a couple of times. We’ve even roped our friends into paying good money, too.
In our picnic basket this year:
- a bottle of Palazzo della torre wine (which rocked, by the way)
- prosciutto, kaseri cheese, and arugula sandwiches on rosemary ciabatta (made by me)
- a motherload of grapes
- english toffee cookies (not made by me)
- red licorice, cheese & crackers, and pretzel nuggets for the masses
The evening ended with a beautiful display of fireworks set off at the top of the ski hill. It was fan-tab-u-lous.
Since then, we’ve had nachos for dinner while watching the incredibly stupid, entirely inappropriate (kid-free here, folks!), yet also hilarious movie,
Role Model; had lunch at two of our favorite outdoor haunts; enjoyed a 10PM meal at the bestest burger bar ever; and generally, not put a single thought into whether we need groceries. It’s been quite lovely, albeit a bit pricey. But hey, with just two of us, we can eat out twice as often, right?
Reality approaches. Planned meals. PB&J. Ewww, Mom, do I have to eat this?
I sure do miss those boys.
