Because Jeff has authors in town and authors in town sometimes means dinner away from home, the girls and I decided to declare this evening Pizza Night.

We left the house at 5:15 to pick up our produce bag from the co-op.

If you’re interested in the contents, here is the photo:

June 5 Co-Op Haul

Lettuce and sweet potatoes and garlic and apples and peaches and bananas and strawberries and peppers and tomatoes and green beans and corn and grapes and artichokes. I predict zero waste this time around. Artichokes!

On the way home we stopped by Little Caesars. (Little Caesars is not particularly GOOD, but a cheese pizza is $5 and it’s definitely edible.) The boy working the drive-thru window was very smiley, and probably high.

Meredith: Mom, I think that guy likes you.

Me: Why would you say that?

Meredith: He can’t stop smiling at you.

Me: Meredith, that has nothing to do with me. I think it’s just his demeanor.

Meredith: Are you talking about his privates?!

Me: Yes. I’m talking about his privates. Do you want Crazy Bread?

Meredith: Yes, please. WHAT IS DEMEANOR?!

I hope this summer never ends. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

10 thoughts on “Tuesday!”

  1. Demeanor is going to mean privates in my house from now on.

    Also, I hope this summer is glorious for you and the pudding girls. Yay!

  2. I totally need some children for blog material, that will reactivate my will to blog. Unfortunately the ol demeaner tubes are tied, so I’d like to rent your children… only for like a week or so. I’ll return them safe and sound, but they will most likely be covered in Siberian Husky fur and slightly scratched.

  3. Hilarious! She must have been thinking de-wiener! Did you eventually tell her what it means?

  4. OOOHHHH…artichokes! Love them..my girls call them leaves and I think the only reason my four year old eats them is because it looks cool to scrape them with her teeth (it really doesn’t). I hope the happy Ceasar’s guy gave you the right order and didn’t throw his demeanor around too much! (ew)

  5. I can’t imagine the number of times my mom had to answer questions about private things…. I’m guessing demeanor is just the beginning of the awkward teen years. Awkward for you, that is.

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