In the garden, I did no crime

A Mad Teaparty, Zelda Fitzgerald

Last night couldn't have been better. Here's how you capture your own heart (if you take my word for it):

-In the morning, wake up and make strong French press coffees. Drink the whole pot yourself. ZING-A!

-Get your crockpot, wash a bag of pinto beans, throw those puppies in on low and go get dressed.

-Come home, add a few slices of bacon, a little salt ('cause bacon's salty mostly enough), and add dried basil. Move it to keep warm bc your beans will be about mush=perfect.

-Plan on cooking cornbread with jalapenos per Husband's request, realize you have no egg, make Indian fry bread instead.

-Crack either Pyramid Apricot Ale or a Guinness, or both, sit at dinner table, chow down and die bc it tastes SO GOOD! Better then my own moma's (just don't tell her while I'm around!). Yum yum yum!

-Fall asleep due to Guinness while watching something on tv. Go to bed by 9:30. BAM!

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Wake up to this! Keep your fingers crossed all that 401K we've been working so hard on isn't completely flushed down the toilet. See Hubby and I thought we were being smart and, gasp, responsible by loading up our 401Ks now, while we don't have kids, in prep for not having any spare dimes when we do have kids. How foolish we were! Completely crazy to be respon-si-bibble. It's pointless, especially with commercials on the tv telling me that the creditors will take $1,200 on a $7,000 debt and settle. What gives?! I do everything the tele tells me.

In other news that doesn't make me want to cash in and keep all my money in a jar in my yard, this is the most amazing invention ever that I need right now. Such style and usability! Need it! Neeed. Especially where we're heading in just a few short days!! Ahh! I just can't contain my excitement. And time can't travel any faster for me now.

I finished A Movable Feast last night. A must read. I don't even like Hemingway and it read so completely unlike his novels that I just ate it up. Wonderful. Such interesting stories and now I'm completely compelled to find a good biography of Zelda Fitzgerald. There were so many anecdotes, and you could tell ole Papa could hardly tolerate her, but he made her seem so much more human than pure crazy. I could feel a tug there, with what I could identify to her. Us crazy women have to stick together, right?

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Currently writing up our Paris itinerary while Hubs looks up torture museums in London. You know, the way it should be.