I'm back from another conference, and today, sitting here in my pink piggy slippers this Saturday morning, I'm excited at the prospect of spending a day in town. Who'd have thought? There will be laundry to wash, floors to clean, books to read, and manuscripts to proof. (Chris: sorry for the delay.) It's also a beautiful sunny day, so I might even walk to Brookside Park and have some fun on the swings.
In case you haven't noticed, I've been away from home a lot these last couple of weeks, and when I came home yesterday, I found the nicest surprise in my freezer: a quart of peanut butter ice cream from Busy Bee, courtesy of my sweet, wonderful boyfriend. It reminds me of one of the many reasons I love him so much: he doesn't just listen; he remembers. Last November, as Busy Bee was preparing to close up shop for the winter, the second-to-last "Flavor of the Day" was peanut butter, a flavor NOT well represented in grocery stores - or, at the very least, Pick and Save. By the time I got to Busy Bee to experience this coveted taste one more time, they'd run out. I was crushed. So when Luke saw they were stocked with it while I was in Chicago, he bought me my very own quart, just so I wouldn't miss it again.
In a world where many women measure the quality of their relationships in fancy dinners, expensive jewelry, and how successful their partners are at the art of mindreading, I don't think it's at all wrong for me to measure mine in peanut butter. I'll come out a winner every time.
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