Perfection

In spite of the fact that we’ve technically moved on from the ‘I’m a Fridgit’ debacle of 41 years ago, its legacy lives on. As I tried to convey yesterday, regardless of the fact that we’ve experienced a handful that were relatively OK, both Karl and I maintain a leery, if healthy, stance toward Valentine’s Day.

A good motto: Don’t take anything for granted, and keep expectations really low.

To that end, Karl made a play today on his quirky first gift of years gone by. (I suspect being outed in yesterday’s post may have had an impact; although I’m not sure.)

Staying In and Keeping it Simple

We’d already decided we were going to stay in for the evening (going out to dinner being an unappealing option for a plethora of reasons). So to spice things up, and in spite of our surprisingly consistent vegetarian dietary choices, I picked up two pieces of gorgeous fresh tuna from our favorite fishmonger, Buckingham Valley Seafood.

Luckily for me, Karl only the day before yesterday expressed an interest in reading a book I’d read back in my train days, Dreaming the Eagle, by Manda Scott. It was the first in what was supposed to be a trilogy, but apparently became a quartet (the Boudica: Dreaming series). I remember being captivated by it and eagerly looking forward to the next in the series. But then, before I became aware of the Dreaming the Bull being written, I stopped commuting and my book consumption, regrettably, plummeted drastically. (Let’s face it: I just plum forgot.)

In looking up Dreaming the Eagle, I saw that I wouldn’t be able to get it delivered in time for today’s festivities, so I checked to see if it was in our library, and it was! So I put it on hold last night and picked it up this afternoon. SCORE! And just like with the Foundation trilogy I gave to Karl so many years ago, we’ll both benefit. I’ll read this book (again) after he finishes it – and then maybe we’ll savor the rest in the series together, too.

Another Risky Gift

Perhaps reading my mind, or maybe inspired by my blog post last night resurrecting our Fridgit fiasco, Karl came home from a business trip this evening and, upon entering the house, was obviously holding something behind his back. He laughed and said he’d taken another risk…

Revealing a brown paper bag with “Owowcow” printed on it (woohoo!), he carefully took out a pint, covered the writing on the top, and started to explain. Before he got a word out, I blurted, “They have a new flavor! I read about it on Facebook. Oooh! I hope you got it!” (Note: I’d not been back to Owowcow since my indulgence back in December, which you might recall…)

He laughed, but didn’t yet reveal. “I saw there was a flavor I’d never heard of before, and I asked to try it,” he said, squinching up his face in obvious distaste. “Ick. I didn’t like it,” he laughed. “It wasn’t sweet enough.”

My eyes lit up. This sounded promising.

“So I figured, Lis’ll probably love it. So I got it.” And with that, he brandished the pint with a flourish.

YES. He’d bought his Little Fridgit a pint of ice cream: