Shmo, oblivous to Bebe’s charms.
Good stuff happened today.
Shmo learned stairs on his own. When I left home from my lunchtime visit, there were three grumpy muzzled faces downstairs. When I came home, there were three happy muzzled faces upstairs. We’ve been working on stairs since Friday night and had made it past the quaking-in-fear stage, but not to a point where he was ready to tackle them without loving support and guidance. I guess when he realized the girls were going back upstairs to sack out in bed, he decided to conquer his fear and head up with them. I’m a very proud foster-papa.
This afternoon a co-worker and I complained about the lack of heat emanating from the registers near our desk. In short order, a gentleman from facilities services arrived to remedy the sad situation. I commented that it was now toasty like a campfire and we should make s’mores. It struck me that it was an idea whose time had come. So tonight, I made s’mores, toasting the marshmallows over the gas burner on the stove and softening the chocolate in the microwave. We ate them over the sink with Scoots & Mrs. Scoots who’d come to see the new arrival. Sometimes the simple pleasures are the best.
On tap for tomorrow, more Shmo-training & a trip to Red-X and/or Mega-Liquor Mart at 119th & Fallow Field for an apricot brandy or an apricot eau de vie so I can try this delightful cocktail recipe. That apricot-flavored stuff at the Berbiglia is not to be trusted. No apricots were harmed in its making.