Lately ...

Rauch Planetarium


Kurt and I went to the planetarium for a space date. There was a lecture about Galileo, then telescopes on the patio. We like learning. When we arrived, it was like someone crept inside Kurt's brain, stole all of his favorite things and staged them in one building for an eerie, too-good-to-be-true surprise party. Space, physics and ... cured meats. That's right. Jaunty, smiling elderly couples from the Italian Cultural Club were there, offering us bottomless booze, pork products and imported cheeses. At that point, if one of them started to set up a Super Nintendo, Kurt would have likely began sobbing. It was spectacular.

My favorite dates are nerdiest ones: meteor shower, a lecture on owls, shooting model rockets. What's next?

25 Cent Ice Cream Day
25 Cent ice Cream Day should be a National Holiday. Spumoni is my jam. Kurt got peach.

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A muffuletta is a swell sandwich for a picnic, because the ingredients aren't too wet and hold up nicely in the summer heat. After a long day spent out in the sun, it's just tragic to open up your knapsack to find a pile of limp, sweaty, grossness wedged between soggy bread. Muffulettas are picnic experts - they'll always pull through. I take sandwiches very seriously, so just trust me on this one.

Here are the sandwich instructions: On the bottom half of a horizontally sliced muffuletta loaf (or other round, crusty Italian bread), pile on 3,000 lbs of each ingredient in this order: muffuletta relish (marinated salad made from olives and sometimes celery, peppers, and carrots), provolone cheese, mortadella and salami. Top with other half of bread, cut into quarters and eat with reckless abandon.

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Hurty puppy.

On a failed camping attempt over the weekend, a smarmy little Jack Russel bit Harold on that web of skin between his hind leg and belly. We thought he'd be ok - he seemed ok! But after checking a second time, we noticed that the wound had stretched into a marble-sized hole, black and empty inside. Poor meeper. Nervous and teary, we whisked him off to the emergency vet in the middle of the night. They patched him up and installed a temporary drainage tube so that potential infection-causing fluids can escape. Now, he's feeling more like himself - a curious little happy head, with his tail wagging. Unfortunately, he periodically likes to slurp goo out of the tube hanging out of his thigh. Eee! We're forcing him to wear a special lampshade hat and we squirt droppers of medicines down his throat twice daily. He must wonder if he still likes us, but quickly forgets when we shower him with pets and peanut butter spoons.

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