A few years ago, I decided to make a webpage so that I could comfort myself at work when my patients tried my patience too far. Looking at soothing pictures of Margaret, Rebecca, and Rachael always calmed my jangled nerves. Later, Rebecca bought me a new improved program for making a website. The one I had been using was pretty pedestrian, but it had one really great advantage over any other. I could work it. The one Rebecca got me was supposed to be easier, nicer, and in every way superior. However, as is so often the case with these sorts of things, the directions were gobbledygook to me, and I not only could I not get past step one, I could not even get to step one. I thought that if I just could get started, I could figure it out. Rebecca was always disappointed that I wasn’t using it, but I tried, I really did. I visited Rachael at her office the other day, and what was she doing? Tweaking her department’s website with that very program. Wow! Here is my big chance to at least get going with it. Rachael agreed to give me some hints, but there was a condition. I had to fix her dinner. And a very particular dinner. Gazpacho, ciabatta, and blueberry bread pudding. “Remember, not just bread pudding, but blueberry bread pudding,” she said. I was happy to do this, as I had been trying to entice her over anyway. The dinner was very nice, and was my first meal of the summer served al fresco. Somehow, it seems silly to cart everything outside for just me, and Ana and I are usually in a hurry to get to our movie and our knitting, so we don’t bother. By the time Rachael got here, and the food was ready, we were both wildly hungry and raring to eat, so I took pictures very quickly. Consequently, they are not very good. You can see my attempt to put a square tablecloth on a round table with an umbrella in the middle of it. I must purchase something more suitable. By the time we were done, we were too stuffed to do much else, and Rachael had a movie date with Lillian, so we didn’t have my website lesson after all. Soon, though, I will master it, and revise the current one so that it has pictures of Rachael that are less than five years old.
Update: Rachael and I could not understand why we were feeling “bloated as poisoned pups,” ( a frequently used, rather horrible quote from my sainted Uncle Robert,) when our entire meal had been vegetable matter. Later I realized that I had used most of a loaf of rosemary bread for the croutons, and sautéed them in quite a bit of olive oil. Delightful little globs of fat they were. And we ate them all. Yikes. No wonder!
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