I'm at Starbucks tonight while Trev is working. I'm trying to be all economical still and not indulge on these solo dates BUT I found two Sacajawea coins in my car and if that's not a cause for celebration I don't know what is. Also, is there anything more fun to say than "Sacajawea"?
So this weekend Trevor's parents are coming to visit and that means I get to pretend that I know how to cook. On the dinner menu is mango barbeque chicken and for breakfast: homemade raspberry bread and eggs. None of which I've ever made before, obviously (except for eggs). Rather ambitious for a girl who thinks that opening a bag of salad counts as cooking.
But I really wanted to try the mango chicken, mostly because the recipe calls for rum. I just have this intense desire to buy liquor from a real live ABC store. While grinning maniacally at the cashier with "Bad" by Michael Jackson playing in my head like the goody-two shoes I am. Slightly reminiscent of when my mom bought Curacao for a key lime pie and pronounced it "cur-AK-cow".
Actually I can't make fun of her because the first time I ever tried wine I asked the waitress in my most polished and mature voice for a "mer-LOT" and Trevor about fell off his chair.
Okay, Starbucks, I appreciate 80's rap music as much as the next person but if I wanted to hear bad rhymes I would go to one of the other coffee shops downtown. (Yes, I am an English major who makes fun of poetry night. Only post graduation, of course.)
Is anyone else totally confused by the music choices of your local Starbucks? It's like, put on Ella Fitzgerald and be done with it.
Anyway, I hope you all have a truly lovely weekend. I am off to obsess over recipes and finish Still Points North by Leigh Newman (have you read it? Go get a copy right now!)