We put our freedom to good use. On our way home from the festivities, we stopped in at Ikea. For four hours. This meant we ate a very late Father's Day supper of mussels steamed in white wine with shallots and saffron. We learned that we should leave mussels as a main course to the French. We certainly weren’t up to consuming Ina Garten’s portion size of 3 pounds of mussels for two people. It was good, though, and the smell was divine. Definitely on my list of Top Three Best Cooking Smells Of All Time That I’ve Produced In My Kitchen.
I was giddy with freedom when I woke up on Monday with the prospect of an entire day alone ahead of me. I spent the morning driving by houses to see with our realtor the next day. In the afternoon I went to an antique mall in Camas, a Norman Rockwell-esque town a few miles east of Vancouver that we are considering settling in. "Giddy with freedom" turned to "giddy with that peculiar rush one gets from finding an incredible bargain." My photo could not capture the deep jewel tones it's actually painted in, but here is the signed oil painting I bought for $30. Please to enjoy:
On Monday night we went to The Jerusalem Cafe (thanks, Dave), where I had the pleasure of eating a delicious falafel sandwich and watching the waiter/proprietor give Shaun a hard time. "Why don't you shave your head?" (Meaning shiny bald like himself.) "Do you dance? No? My wife, she'll teach you to dance. She made ME dance." Fantastic.
Stuffed to the gills with some truly delicious hummus and pita, we went home and watched Transformers. That's right, Transformers. And I enjoyed it.
On Tuesday I got to go out looking at houses with our real estate agent. Oh, how I love to look at houses. The day did dash some of my hopes, but no day that includes viewing a bathroom with velvety flocked wallpaper, bright red shag carpet, and saloon doors can be all bad. This photo doesn't even begin to capture the glory of it:
The boys were returned to us late Tuesday afternoon. Nels was full of enthusiasm for the "help" he had provided in planting a garden. Willem, on the other hand, spent much of his visit embracing his naughty two-year-old-ness. ("I throw a tractor," was the only story he relayed.)
A person could get used to all this carting off of the kids. Luckily for me the Grandmartins and Antsy Ancy will be here tomorrow, so I don't have to go cold turkey.
*A tip of the hat to Hillary for coining the word "Grandmartins" to refer to Shaun's folks.