You Can’t Have Too Much Eye-Talian
Despite how it may seem, Bill and I rarely get to the Phoenix suburb of Tempe. And yet, two days in a row we have been there. As you will recall, the other day we went on a field trip to Portillo’s and did a couple of other errands. Yesterday we went to IKEA, the only one of which is in Tempe. A Facebook friend, taking note of our trip to Portillo’s, suggested we go to a restaurant called Rigatony’s if we are ever in the area where it is located. (The restaurant’s name, by the way, is correctly spelled, a clever take on the proprietor’s name, I assume.) I looked up the restaurant and lo, and behold, it was only a couple of miles from IKEA. We went and were extremely delighted that it was a wonderful family-style Italian restaurant with delicious food. We were very surprised, however, to see that it was also very busy, even at 12:30 in the afternoon on a Wednesday. A half hour wait. Well worth it. I love nice surprises, especially when they have to do with food.
The days tick by and it gets closer and closer to the time at which Jen moves to AZ for good (date yet unknown). Every so often, Bill and I begin to get nervous about where everything will go when the already-full house needs to absorb another person with her own stuff. While a trip to IKEA can’t entirely solve the problem, organization can’t hurt. So we bought a couple of different things yesterday that will hold some of our stuff, thereby making more room in the den and getting things off of our bedroom floor. I am the poster child for “if you have a free space, stuff will be put there,” but I am determined to go through our things, figure out what we really need, and then figure out where to store it. What we don’t really need will go to Goodwill. One man’s junk is another man’s treasure, so they say. A walk through IKEA is good for my soul. It puts steps on my Fitbit, and I get a chance to see some of the Swedish names for their furniture. It makes me feel like the Swedish chef on The Muppets.
Make Yourself at Home
Speaking of Jen, she arrived yesterday afternoon to spend a few days with her grands – oh, and her daughter and siblings too. Bill loves to torture her by greeting her with something along the lines of “Hi Jen, welcome to Arizona. Make yourself at home.” Given that she pays half the mortgage, she is oh-so-amused by his greeting.
I recorded, and then sat and watched, the 140th Westminster Dog Show, something I
try to do each year if I can remember that it falls sometime around Valentine’s Day. I like to see all of the different dogs, though I root for my favorite – the Miniature Schnauzer. This year the little bearded Schnauzer actually made it as one of the runners up in the Terrier group. Recording the program is a must so that you can fast forward through all of the interviews (with the owners, not the dogs) and all of the stories about how the dogs are groomed (why, oh why, do they make some of the dogs look so ridiculous). One of my favorite moments was when one of the dogs – I don’t remember which, though it was a larger dog – decided fame wasn’t quite as important as those goodies that were in his handler’s pocket and turned naughty and just kept jumping and biting the pocket instead of walking quietly next to the handler. As you might expect, he was not selected as Best in Show. Instead, it was the German Shorthaired Pointer, who beat out others who were more favored.