100 years ago

My Grandpa Hensley, aka Pa, turned 100 on May 1st, and to celebrate, we decided to throw him a little party/us a little family reunion. A lot of my cousins are Catholics, which means they are breeding like bunnies without the help of the multiples that run in that family... and those Catholics like my cousin Angie who have that multiples gene, well, they make it impossible to keep up with all these kids.

After 100 years, it was time to call everyone together to take stock of what one man's life started.

Because it was a party and I am the one who lives closest to him, I wrestled planning control from my dad. He found a great spot in Wilmore, just down the road from Pa's nursing home. The Highbridge Pavilion was perfect for any weather scenario, was next to a playground, overlooked the Kentucky River, and was $75 for the entire day. I designed the invite, arranged for a fancy cake, procured the decorations, and planned the food. Behold, a mood board.

Pa's party was on the same day as Jen's baby shower, but thanks to the best friend in the entire world, my dearly beloved Ruble, I was able to hang up signs and get the pavilion decorated early in the morning. We also got to test its weather sufficiency, since there was a massive thunderstorm going on while we were hanging red foil stars from the ceiling. The storm passed, Jen's shower went off without a hitch, and I made it back to the pavilion before Pa's grand entrance.

Pa was too out of it to really know who we all were, but he seemed to be thrilled to see so many people and understood it was a party atmosphere. I'm not sure I want to live to be 100, but if I do, I hope I have as much joy in my heart as Pa still has in his. 

Goals for this week.

1. Pass nursing test.
2. Pass IV skill.
3. Go to Keeneland.

What's for brinner?

A few weeks ago Leigh's awesome cousin Tara and her crazy awesome kids came to visit, and Leigh's parents hosted all of us lunatics at their house for the weekend. By hosted I mean they made us gourmet meals and filled us up with wines that were so good they raised my IQ by like 30 points.

The first night was salmon a la the best restaurant in New Orleans. I think it's called Commanders. It should be called Fritz's Bitch because I have no doubt Leigh's dad could make the Commander cry. Because look at this divine platter of flavor explosion.

Saturday we woke up to coffee and orange juice and sunshine on the deck and oh-my-god-I-didn't-know-you-were-supposed-to-marinate French toast. With strawberries. And bananas. And blueberries. And cinnamon. And soysage.

Dinner that night was more divinity. Leigh made us mahi mahi with red peppers and there was bread and then I discovered the joy of English peas. I deserve to be smacked for going 32 years without having eaten English peas. English peas are some of the best things Mother Nature ever gave us. Although I'm still not sure where to find English peas. SOMEONE FIND ME SOME ENGLISH PEAS.

The final morning of Weekend of Regressing to Adolescence, Fritz was heading off to meet friends for lunch, so Leigh's mom took her place at the helm of the hooded stove. Eggs and smoked salmon and bagels and cream cheese and that's it, I'm moving in. When I start to get on their nerves, I'll go to my parents' house for chocolate cake and pancakes and guacamole and TV and regress there for a bit.

It's been weeks since I ate that good, so when Mack texted me about having brinner tonight, I pretty much squealed. Not just because I love brinner but also because I wanted to try to make Fritz Toast. I googled "best French toast ever" and got to work. 

I got strawberries and blackberries and maple syrup and did the marinating trick. Then I sprinkled on the sprinklies and I skilleted each piece in butter before finishing them in the over. And yeah, it turned out pretty good. Not quite Fritz, but still pretty awesome. I also decided to make home fries for the first time ever and those... yeah, I made those my bitch. Hooray for brinner. And regressing.

Ruble's Last Rodeo

A few weeks ago, Ruble rounded up a bunch of us girls to go to Nashville and have a single life sendoff. Because I am a little addicted to party planning, I sort of demanded she let me plan it... and she agreed only after I swore to her that she wouldn't have to play any stupid games or wear anything stupid.

Lucky for me, she didn't think a cowgirl hat was stupid. And that's how we got started with Ruble's Last Rodeo.

Most of the inspiration came from cowgirl pinup paintings by Gil Elvgren.

As for the actual bachelorette weekend, mostly I remember that Jack Daniels was there, and that he was very demanding of my attention. And that I was an aggressive advocate of moustaches. And that I had a blast celebrating with one of the best friends a person can have.

Sprung.