Actually, I could talk longer, he just can't listen that long.
Some old friends from high school gathered at my friend M.'s house for dinner tonight. My word, did we laugh. And laugh. Oh, and then we laughed some more.
There were five us together. We were supposed to be ten of us, but five couldn't make it. That's too bad for them because we had a great time visiting with each other, catching up on everyone's life and kids and husbands and jobs.
Then we got to the good stuff, like internet security and
Yet, if it weren't for
Do as I say and not as I do, kids.
Because I said so.
Oops, sorry, I digress. Every now and then all those parenting cliches come trotting out.
M.'s son, J., made the bruschetta and the pesto that was in the wee little basil boats on top of the mozzarella. What a clever young man. The little boats were his idea. I think I'm going to steal it. They were so adorable. And taste delicious.
By the way, J., I want your pesto recipe.
There's something wrong with getting a recipe from a teenage boy, don't you think? What, exactly, does that say about my cooking?
We ended the night with brownies, again made by J., and fruit salad and chocolate chip cheesecake bars.
What a great food night.
And what a great friend night.