New Food, Old Wounds

I don’t know whether to attribute the recent chilliness to the rainy weather or a seasonal change. I do know that it’s getting dark much sooner; it is as the weather gods have decided to skip fall (well, what passes for fall on this island) entirely this year and move straight into winter (ditto). Well, whatever the cause, I hope it continues. I love the crispness.

Choco-waffles with chocolate chips and chocolate sauce with a side of super-happiness.

Choco-waffles with chocolate chips and chocolate sauce with a side of super-happiness.

Crab and artichoke panini and salad with a mango-pepper dressing which Lynnette described as a pepperyish-mangoish dressing which she liked.

Crab and artichoke panini and salad with a mango-pepper dressing which Lynnette described as a pepperyish-mangoish dressing which she liked.

I think nearly everyone will agree with me when I say that the weather during this three-day weekend was underwhelming. On Friday afternoon I had plans for Sandy Beach on Saturday. By Friday night, those plans had been rendered useless by the onslaught of rain. We didn’t get out in the sun all weekend, which is criminal during one featuring an additional day. While the sun did arrive Sunday afternoon, the damage had already been done: runoff ruined the beach and left us with no plans for Veterans Day.

After Lynnette Lewis and Clark-explored the offerings at Eden in Love, we somehow ended up at Yogur Story. Lynnette and I have seen multiple images on Facebook and Instagram and whatnot, but had never actually been there before. It seemed like a good idea. It was. By now, most of you have seen the picture of Madison’s face when the server placed her chocolated-out waffles on the table. It will surprise absolutely no one to know that Madison pulled off one of her finest eating performances to date, routinely stabbing a piece of waffle, dipping it into the whipped cream, then using the cream as an adhesive to sop up Oreo cookie bits. I told her that she would be having “dessert for lunch,” but I don’t think she really believed me until she saw her personal nirvana set down before her. Lynnette had only wonderful things to say about the salad and sandwich – which was really large for the price – and my own smoked salmon bagel was delicious. We will return, Yogur Story.

Personal nurse.

Personal nurse.

Personal nurse, junior.

Personal nurse, junior.

I had a softball game last night. The good news: I had three hits (two of which were solid). The bad news: We lost and our season if over. The worst news: I cut up my knee again. When I got home, Madison was shouting about wanting a snack (which she was doing before I left AND SHE ATE DINNER IN BETWEEN!) so I diverted her attention. “Mad, I need your help because I have a cut on my leg,” I said. He whining stopped immediately and she ran over to where I was standing to check my leg out. “Let me see it!” Lynnette said from the kitchen. I lifted my leg. “Well, did you make the play?” she asked. “You really know how to-” I started, but Lynnette cut me off. “Did you?” she badgered. “No,” I said. She scoffed and walked into the bedroom. Let’s just go ahead and add a bruised ego to the list.

After I showered, Madison applied the medicine to my knee. Lynnette took over because Madison’s hand was a little too gentle. “I wanna do the band-aid!” Mad shouted. I watched as Lynnette carefully peeled the band-aid and Madison waited impatiently. “Ah-ah-ah!” Lynnette barked at Madison who was to eager. “Don’t waste it!” Lynnette placed it down atop my cut and let Madison push the adhesive into place. How did Madison secure the band-aid? By slapping the entire area with both hands like my knee was a bongo. “Hey-hey-hey!” I said jumping up from the bed. Madison froze. Lynnette laughed.

Now, you’d think that this would have been the highlight of the ordeal. You’d be mistaken. “How did you get that ow-wee, dad?” Madison asked. “I dove on the ground for the ball,” I said. “You mean like this?” she said. She took two steps, then faceplanted into her futon. “No, like this,” I said, extending an arm with an imaginary glove at the end. “Like this?” she said, diving into the futon with her right arm extended. “No, this arm!” I said, extending my left and squeezing the tips of my fingers to my thumb to exaggerate/simulate a glove. “Oh!” Madison shouted, then flew herself onto her futon with her left arm extended. When she landed, she squeezed the tips of her fingers twice for effect. She looked up at me. “That’s perfect!” I said. She smiled. “But did you get it?” she asked.

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