So, here is the outfit transgression. Why I thought it was OK to set foot outside wearing nothing but workout gear and a trenchcoat is beyond me. I looked like a flasher. A friendly flasher, one who might help a blind person cross the street, but a flasher nonetheless.

Thankfully we have a royal Hungarian vizsla living in our home, which brings our status as a family up a notch. If it wasn’t for the vizsla, we’d have the same reputation as the Hiltons. The Weiners. The Spitzers. The (shielding eyes), dare I say it…Lohans? 

It was that kind of thinking that led me to the quiche. Desolation, despair. Here is the slab that I mentioned earlier. I bought it at Bouchon Bakery in midtown after a meeting was postponed by 2 hours, leaving me with an extra 2 hours in my day to console myself with food.
I have never tasted quiche this good in my life. I would be totally fine if that wobbly goodness went straight to my thighs. Or underneath my chin. My kneecaps even. It was so beyond worth it. Ahhhh!!! Not worth it! Not worth it! Must fix now!

Fortunately there was a farmers’ market in the vicinity and I reversed course by picking up a few crates of fruit. Which are now attracting fruit flies on my counter because who can eat this much fruit in a week? Am I the only person who does this? I can’t go to a farmers’ marketing without buying bags of food. It’s an illness really.

Fortunately I know how to deal with an oversupply of fruit & veg. I just wiped off the fruit flies, threw the apricots on the grill, and ended up with a delicious 5-minute salad made from greens, vinaigrette, shredded chicken, the grilled fruit, and smoked ricotta salata. If you’re jealous of my lunch that day, you should be. It really was as good as it looks.

Before we start, let’s remember how idyllic the lake can be when nobody is tugging on your shirt asking for things. Ansel Adams even took a photo of it back in the day. (I’m lying, but I could have tricked you with this shot, amazing what Instagram can do with our cell phones.)

The skies are less cloudy here, but it still feels like there’s an impending Cat 3, maybe a Tropical level storm on the horizon. The is the type of weather that should cause you to run inside for cover, not lounge on an inflatable with someone who is 7-months pregnant.  

One of our visitors, let’s just call him Derrick, stocks a plastic tub with an avalanche of ice, beer and white wine. And juice boxes. So thoughtful, even though they were an afterthought. We later transfer the ice and drinks to a larger plastic tub as this one has to be refilled every hour.  

4th of July calls for some cliff jumping. Or jumping off the edge of a dock that’s just a few inches off the water. But it kind of feels like cliff jumping when you’re 4 and 5.

Rest time. Sam’s had a little too much wine and passes out in my lap. At least his fraternity brothers didn’t cover him in lipstick. Although I wouldn’t have allowed that as my mom paws are firmly planted in a protective shield.  Seriously, back off, I will fight dirty if you lay a hand on him.  That’s not a smile, it’s a fear grimace.  I feel threatened and there’s no telling what I’ll do.

Road trips provide ample opportunity to teach them how to deal with an embarrassing mother.

First stop, farmers’ market. I swore I’d never make another vegetarian lasagna, but I think that’s where I’m heading with this.

Not only did she insist on wearing her gymnastics outfit to the farmers’ market, but she also showed us a few tricks.

Back at the house, we start dancing. Unbeknownst to us, Spiderman is a yoga ninja.

Although it’s 90 degrees, Santa hats are dug out of the Christmas box, bubbles are blown.

Poor Jack, doesn’t realize that Old Navy they don’t give out bacon treats. Just look at him waiting so patiently, dagger through the heart.

RODNEY: “Why are you sending one word responses to my emails?”
ME: “Obviously because I’m in a cab balancing a 5-lb macaroni and cheese in one hand. And that just took me half an hour to write. Dammit.”
Alternate caption for this picture:
“Woman with floating head carries mac ‘n cheese.”

Again, on the topic of pee, the beauty of the can is deceiving. What it tastes like, particularly after it’s been warming at your desk for a few hours while you sip and work, is….well, you know where I’m going with this. And why was I drinking at the office again? Oh, right, office party. Was concerned for a second that there wasn’t a reason.