I was afraid I wouldn’t have anything to write about today—what with having the spent the past week in the middle of nowhere and all—but then I remembered that today is Easter and in the Richter household, Easter means Easter-eve dinner at The Olive Garden- con Los Abuelos.
For those of you who remember my grandmother from my day off, a Japanese Christmas and the Flower Show wine tasting, it should come as no surprise that our meal began with a toast to the, er…. Blood of Christ.
And no, that’s not lemonade you see there. That’s my brother having to be all non-conformist and ordering himself a frozen limoncello.
Turns out the frozen limoncello was actually pretty good (seeing as it was Easter and all, I convinced my brother to the pass the cup. I also convinced my grandmother to order as stawberry limoncello martini.)
Being the dutiful granddaughter that I am, I made sure to drink most of my grandmother’s martini myself. (We wouldn’t a repeat of last year’s trip to the Flower Show.) I did, however, let her hold it for “archival” purposes:
Fortunately she’s getting up there in years so I just kept asking if I could “try” her drink and it wasn’t until my fourth or fifth “try” that she finally caught on.
Upon returning to my grandparents house for dessert (pastries and Neapolitan ice cream) I finally managed to snap a picture of the cat-mobile:
I’m fascinated by the cat-mobile. My grandparents “rescued” two feral cats a few years back and my grandfather built them a customized cage-on-wheels so that he can take them for a spin around the block in style. From what we’re told, however, the cats don’t appreciate his craftsmanship. This shouldn’t come as much of a surprise: they’re cats; cats hate everything, including the cat-mobile, and feral felines aren’t exactly known for their love of “walks around the neighborhood.”
Poor Abuelo. He worked very hard on the cat-mobile. In fact, if I ever come back to life as a cat, I’d want to be a cat that’s “rescued” by my grandparents because they are insane about their cats. Also they are insane about snacks. They stash Kit Kats and Reeses Peanut Butter Cups in “unknown” hiding spots all around the house. Evidently the whole hiding chocolate from one’s loved ones thing is genetic. I should probably work this into my new Match.com profile.
Until next time, Happy Easter!