Yo, what a nice weekend. Henry and I spent a nice amount of time outside, which is always GOOD FOR THE SOUL or whatever someone with a collection of Rae Dunn cups would say. Saturday was decent enough but it was hot off the heels of some pretty heavy raining, and we admittedly picked a dumb locale for a walk that afternoon – Schenley Park, which has sand-like trails so we were dodging puddles left and right. ANYWAY, I wouldn’t have included this in here at all except that as we were walking, we found car keys on the trail by the soccer field. Henry scooped them up, I guess because he figured it would be safer than leaving them on the ground and also because he thought they probably belonged to one of the joggers who had splattered past us in the mud.
Sure enough, some lady who was actually parked in front of us eventually started jogging over to us and panted, “You didn’t happen to see car—” and Henry held the key up for her to take.
“Oh my god!” she cried. “I said to myself, ‘I’m gonna ask these ppl over there’ and thank god I did!” and we were like, “<good natured lip service>” but really in my head I was like WOW MUST BE NICE TO LOSE SOMETHING AND THEN GET IT BACK.
So then I whined about my missing ring for pretty much the rest of our walk. Picked up Chooch from his game design class at Pitt, stopped at Grim Wizard for a chai but then ended up getting a Vlad the Impaler latte instead and it was OK but had a bit too much strong flavors swirling up in it.
Not too much else happened on Saturday. Oh, we went to Kohl’s which has become one of my least favorite places in the world but I needed to find a top to wear with a skirt I got for my not-wedding and it ended up OK but I just truly hate shopping, I think.
The weather on Sunday was much more beautiful than Saturday though and I was rearin’ to go. This time I chose Monongahela Cemetery because it’s been a few years since I was last there with Chooch the day we went out without a chaperone to geocache.
We stopped at a Sheetz down the street first so I could pee and I found a pair of sunglasses hanging in the stall! SO I TURNED THEM IN TO SOMEONE AT THE CHECK-OUT.
WHY COULDN’T SOMEONE TURN MY RING IN??
(Ugh I honestly spent all weekend reliving that night.)
(Yeah-yeah that’s me, linking back to one post ago like a loser.)
Anway. Ugh. What a nice day.
Ew, you can see Henry BANDAID in this picture. He started to tell me what the cause of his injury was but it had something to do with a car seat of a truck and it fell on his arm and UGH I started screaming because I think I was picturing this to be way worse in my mind because Henry was doing a poor job explaining it so I had to fill in the gaps with my mental Play-Doh Factory of worst case scenarios.
Of course, we mainly talked about K<3REA.
AND THEN I
SAID THAT’S
THE ONE THING WE’VE GOT
(Hate that song, actually, so I’m thrilled for myself that it popped in my head just now.)
You guys! I couldn’t tell if this raccoon was dead or just sleeping!?! Henry said it was definitely sleeping but I couldn’t see that he was breathing and I was so freaked out.
That was a nice hour of sunshine and acting like morons.
Then we drove a few towns over to CHARLEROI and had lunch at some place called Perked Up cafe. The vibe of the place was decent – I mean, we were so far removed from ThE bIg CiTy that this wasn’t a magnet for Instagram Influedouchers.
I was sad though because I must have been looking at old menu and the AVOCADO TOMATO sandwich I was eyeballing wasn’t on the actual menu board there :( The cashier suggested just getting the avocado toast with tomato but I had it in my head that the retired sandwich was meant* to be actual slices of avocado and tomato on a sandwich, son. Not smashed avocado. :( So instead I got the spinach & artichoke on marbled rye and let me just tell you that the bread was the best part because the stuff between the slices was scant and lacked absolutely all flavor. And for $10!!!! Jesus Christ. I abhor making sandwiches but you better trust that even I would have made this better.
*(I had a friend who moved away from Pgh many many many years ago and she would always say “meant” instead of “supposed,” for example: “You were meant to turn there.” I would get angry and scoff, ”Stop talking like you’re British!” So, good job triggering yourself, Erin.)
I mean, I still ate it though because I was fucking hunggggy.
Henry kept raving about his cold brew and I was like, “Calm down, guy, it’s not that special.” For instance, I got a French Toast latte it tasted like neither French nor toast nor French toast. I didn’t hate it, and I somehow didn’t hate the place in general. But I was still fucking hunggggy when we left.
LOL you’re welcome.