Little indulgences

My absolute favorite summer dessert is blackberry cobbler and vanilla ice cream (Blue Bell, naturally). This weekend in a swirl of company, I couldn't help myself and created a masterpiece of decadent dessert-y goodness. Tart, sweet, flaky, and absolutely fabulous when warm with a scoop of creamy homemade vanilla perfection. The recipe is my step-mother's, and I'm quite certain she does a better job with it than me, but I'm starting to get the impressive top crust arrangement down. It's quite exciting. Because company can only eat so much cobbler, we had plenty left over.

I can't stand to partake of a fattening evening on my own, so I supplied my puppy with a new rawhide. For a dog who has been on a diet for four months, we've entered Nirvana. This is her Valhalla, please do not disturb.

Target is my favorite store

I was wandering around Target tonight, arguably to pick up things for a baby shower I'm part of hosting this weekend, but mostly because I love wandering around Target. Target has everything you could possibly imagine, and is absolutely chock full of things you don't even realize you need. (Unless you're my husband, who doesn't need these things and doesn't think I really need a seventh clock for our great room either.)

Anyway, upon checking out, the two high school aged cashiers were talking to each other.
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Cashier #1: I think they're highly dependent for each other.

Cashier #2: What?

Cashier #1: I'm trying to sound smart.

Cashier #2: What's that mean? Dependent?

Cashier #1: You know, related and liking each other and stuff.

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And stuff indeed.

Third time is not a charm

My work crowd does not really head out to lunch all to often. In fact, since I've been at work, we've only actually ventured off of the campus twice for food - and one of those occasions was today. We went to a local pizzeria that is known for delicious delicious crust and absolutely fantastic iced tea. Rave reviews.

Our food arrives and a member of our table had ordered a personal pizza with pineapple and jalapeños. An odd combination, I guess, but no more unreasonable than anything else anyone puts on a pizza. Her pizza came with pineapple and pepperoni, not jalapeños. The waitress was incredibly apologetic, and went to correct the order. She left the first pizza behind - a freebie. The woman who was missing her pizza instructed us all to go ahead an eat. So about halfway through the meal her new pizza arrives. Jalapeños and... Pepperoni! Now there are two correct toppings, but they are on two separate pizzas. Plus this woman looks like the hungriest person on the planet with all this food in front of her. The waitress stops and asks what's wrong when everyone at the table stops eating/talking/moving because we're so confused at how this could happen twice. She apologizes profusely again and offers to bring a side of pineapple, but the problem is not that the topping is missing so much as that the pepperoni is present. At this point we're practically finished, so my teammate (sans pizza) just requests the correct pizza to go. We are trying to get back to work, after all. Right before we leave, a new pizza arrives in a to-go box, with two extra to-go boxes for the extraneous pizzas. We can't stand it and take a peek at the final pizza offering... Pineapple and pepperoni - again. Three pizzas, all wrong. First matches the third no less. Poor teammate!

On an aside, they did really have fantastic iced tea and my pizza was delicious.

Return of the bobble heads

Today at work I found myself inexplicitly turned into a bobble-head doll. My boss stopped by my cube and at some point in the conversation I realized that my neck had lost the ability to hold the weight of my head. I deduced this due to the fact that every four seconds or so, I would nod uncontrollably to assert the fact that I was indeed listening rather than thinking about what other method I could use to assert the fact that I was listening. Blinking rapidly? Leaning forward? What else could I do to make her realize that I am listening?

In the end I'm pretty sure I only absorbed half of the message she was trying to get across. Stupid neck.

The century mark

Today in the metroplex we reached the century mark. Over one hundred degrees of hotness baked the city for hours and hours, resulting in cement that is hot enough to fry an egg. Really. Living in a giant concrete jungle isn't the most fabulous place to be when the temperature starts to rise. The laws of thermodynamics are a cruel joke. It left me longing for a January day last year when Zoee and I built a fort to protect ourselves from a barrage of snowballs projected by a certain husband of mine. At the time I remember being excited about the future hot chocolate and down comforter on the couch. Now I just wish I could swim in the snow to cool off. I'm sure Zoee feels the same way.