Since Mike’s been getting work on American Idol, we’ve started watching when we get home from work. We can’t watch a full episode yet – I mean it’s two hours and sometimes not so entertaining: The host is annoying, Jennifer Lopez loves ALL of them, and even at this point in the competition I don’t know how some of them are still in it. Still, I have something of a crush on Phillip Phillips. He’s going to win, and if he doesn’t, he will still be the most successful of the group.
Akon was there this week, and Mike took a short video of him laughing – he has an infectious laugh. Nicky Minaj was there last week and Mike walked by her. “Her butt’s not THAT big.” Apparently, she’s known for her large booty, but it’s not surprising. Every famous person I see looks smaller in person. The camera adds 10 pounds! Kelly Ripa must be a skeleton.
Over the weekend I get a package from Mom. It’s a pretty big box. Easter present! Mike and I have no idea what it’s going to be. We open the box together and whatever’s inside is wrapped in dry ice. She sent us food! Yes, something to eat for Easter! I quickly look at the receipt and see the word Lamb. She sent us lamb! I’ve never cooked lamb before. I hope I don’t mess it up. Mike is really excited. “Yes, I can’t wait to eat it for dinner.” I dig through the box and pull out a tiny white stuffed lamb. A stuffed animal. What? Why is a stuffed animal in dry ice? At the bottom of the box is a prettily wrapped box of Fannie May chocolates. I keep looking through the box. You can’t possibly need all the dry ice and packaging for a box of chocolate. But it is. We laugh as I play with my new lamb. “Fake out of the century!” Mike is convinced Mom did it as a prank, but no, she doesn’t think that way. The tag on my white lamb says Jakey, but that name won’t do. We name him Lamp Chop Choppy Sticks. Mike gets a little weirded out by how much I talk to Lamby. I love stuffed animals.
Easter is the first real holiday that I don’t celebrate. It’s kind of sad. Mike doesn’t really care – he always acts like Easter isn’t a real holiday. At least we get to hang out until I have work at 6pm. I make breakfast (of course). Scrambled eggs, applewood smoked bacon, and toast with butter. I have to mention I have two new favorite foods in California. One is this Alpine Valley Organic multi-grain bread. It’s ridiculous how good this bread tastes. Mike agrees, and he’s not even into the organic stuff. The second is Ralph’s Sweet Hot mustard. I put it on everything, especially the multi-grain bread. It’s so good. I don’t know if they have either back in Jersey. If they don’t I’ll have to bring some home.
Mike and I catch up on a couple episodes of Walking Dead. I get a little bummed that we’re not doing anything for Easter, so Mike suggests we play cards. Yes! We don’t have any. Quick walk to Kim’s Market – might as well on this beautiful 80 degree day. Traffic to the beach is bumper-to-bumper all day. We marvel at it going by on our street. We can’t get over living so close to the beach.
Oh Hell doesn’t really work with two people, so we play silly rummy. It’s five hands. Mike kills me in the first hand – I get stuck with all the cards in my hands. “So is that good that I got done and you didn’t lay anything down?” Oh, curse word you Mike. He laughs. “What??” The face of innocence. I am such a poor sport. I beat him in the next three hands, but not by enough so he’s still more than 100 points ahead by the fifth hand. I run him and he can’t lay anything down. I win. Now, if I had just lost, I would walk away. I wouldn’t even bother counting the negative points in my hand to see just exactly how many points he beat me by. But Mike sits there and counts his cards and doesn’t get mad at me. Then he does have to walk away. It’s moments like these I feel lucky to have him.
At work, a couple sits at the end of the bar. He orders a club soda and she, a hot tea. They don’t eat: just talk. I go about my business, and later when I pass them he stops me. “We’re having a sort of bet. I think you’re a Virgo, and she thinks you’re an Aries.” (Maybe he didn’t say Aries: I stopped listening after he said Virgo.) Well, you’re right I’m a Virgo. He seems very proud of himself. They continue talking as I can’t stop thinking, how can you tell someone’s sign?
I’ve never been an astrology person. It’s so cliche: what’s your sign? Stupid. Cherie is the first person I think of who actually turned me on to it, a little bit. Cherie was my next door neighbor. Not until high school though, so it wasn’t like we actually grew up together. Her brother, John, was also technically my first real boyfriend. I was a sophomore and he was a senior. It only lasted about three months. It was funny, though. If I was going to my boyfriend’s house I would literally jump over the fence in my backyard to get to his backyard.
Cherie was friends with me and Sarah and would come over a lot to hang out. Sarah and I didn’t really share friends, so I’ll admit that Cherie was better friends with Sarah. But we had our moments. Cherie was always so carefree and different than anyone I knew. She would talk to me about astrology in respect to me and Mike, and her and her boyfriend (now fiance), Fred. It was fascinating. My philosophical friend.
Quick side story about Cherie. She came over a lot for holidays. One Christmas, Sarah was on the phone with her. Dad yelled to Sarah in the other room. “Tell her Merry Christmas!” She’s probably going to come over. “Oh yea, tell her we have PLENTY of food!” Pop-Pop was sitting on the couch with no idea who Cherie is. He laughs a little. “Why? Is she a …big girl?” Dad is quick to respond. “Oh yeaaaaa, she’s HUGE!” Immediate contagious laughter at himself. “No, she’s like this (he holds up his pinky finger).” Dad always gets a big kick out of himself. I guess that was more of a side story about Dad.