Boots in the Oven

Hey, I think we figured Wink out!

Yeah, you might think that after the so-so experience we had at Wink back in April, we wouldn't be back anytime soon.  But we're strange like that, I guess, and after a long long day of shopping and gym-going (I'm still sore), we decided to take a jaunt over to Wink for dinner.

Wink's wine bar, that is.

Turns out, you can order everything on Wink's menu at their wine bar, including the tasting menu - plus there's a list of tasty bar apps!

HEE HEE WHOOO. HEE HEE WHOOO.

I'm trying to keep my blood pressure and heart rate down using your standard breathing exercises, but the only one I know anything about is Lamaze (and that's mostly from the movies) which I don't think is helping that much.

Condo update in 50 words or less, from when eviction citation was received:  GO.

$26,000 lien put against house by sleazy owner's realtor.  Lien cleared.  Offer.   Counteroffer.  Offer.  Counteroffer.  Offer.  Counteroffer.  ACCEPTED woot!  Paperwork signed.  Mortgage lined up.  Closing soon - by end of month?

There, you're just about up to date.

So, thinking we're all in the clear and everything's settled with the lawyers, I arrive home today to find: Notice of Eviction Default Judgment.

Apparently, we're not out of the woods yet. The bank decided to go to court anyway so they can throw us out on our adorable heinies if the sale doesn't work out.  Isn't that nice?  Sweet, even?  Human?

So I've been looking at this picture and practicing Lamaze.  hee hee whoo, indeed.

Second verse, same as the first, a little bit louder and a little bit worse

Yesterday, Reimer's Ranch, 2:00 PM:

"I don't sunburn."

Sure you don't want some sunscreen?  It's just SPF 15, it's like nothing.

"I don't sunburn."

OK.  Let's go in the water.  Nice. 

Let's lay next to the water.  Really, you don't want sunscreen?

"No.  Really.  I don't burn."

In and out of the water.  On the sand.  Ninety-five degrees.  No shade.

"I don't sunburn."

Let's fall asleep for an hour and wake up when we get rained on.  Oh.

Let's drive back to Austin, exclaiming the whole way that Sooz maybe shouldn't have fallen asleep for two hours since she's now lobster red.

Husband says, "Good thing I don't sunburn."

Later that night, I say, hey, you're looking pretty pink and your skin's rather dry.  Would you like some lotion?

"Sure.  It's not sunburn, though."

I know.

"Hey, that lotion tingles.  No, burns.  OW OW OW."

Not sunburned?  Want aloe anyway?

"Yes."

Aloe applied, skin now hot to the touch, the man says:

"It appears I may have a bit of a burn."

Comfortable Meaty Food

Sheez, at least there has been a post between this one and the barbecue orgy!

So.  What do you do when a Texas Deppity bangs on your door and hands you an EVICTION CITATION that asks for your presence in court in a week or else?

Well, first you gasp a lot, and then you think about it for a couple of days, and then you decide that what would really help your state of mind would be a burger from this place you've been hearing so much about.

Or am I projecting, and that's just me?

Now I'm really not one to eat when I'm upset - in fact, I lose weight quickly when stressed - but I guess this time is different.  I just couldn't stop thinking about meaty meatburgers and crunchy fries.

So I went to Mighty Fine Burgers.

A fun afternoon with Flickr

If you're normal, this should really only take you ten minutes or so.

It's a great idea I learned about through Paolaccio, who got it from Michelle at Bleeding Espresso.

It's a way to make a pretty representative mosaic using bits of your life and personality.  Here's how, if you want your own:

Smitty's Market in Lockhart Wants to Cure Your Anemia

No real news to report on the condo.  The "owner" and his realtor continue to sink to newly hilarious levels of insane sleaziness, and meanwhile, we wait.  Like I told my father last week, I'm buying laundry soap in the small sizes just in case we have to move suddenly.  Har.

Memorial Day Weekend was filled with fun and food and happiness in the form of my inlaws, the inestimable and inimitable GQ and Mama Bear, who haven't made an appearance on this blog in some time but are still trucking along just north of New Orleans.

While they were here, in Central Texas, we had to go eat barbecue.  Texas-style barbecue, of course.  For those of you who are blissfully unaware of what sets Texas barbecue apart from that of lesser states, well, we scoff at the vinegary marinades of North Carolina.  We laugh at the childlike yellow of Central South Carolina's mustard-sauced shredded pork.  Here, we do beef.  And some pork.  But mostly beef.

And sauce is always the condiment, never the star!