Earthmovers and Sandcastles

Fact: on MOPS mornings, I don’t ordinarily have coffee, since I know I’ll have coffee there.
Fact: I don’t ordinarily eat breakfast those mornings, either, since ditto.
Fact: I can’t cook without caffeine of some sort in my system.
Fact: I was on tap for a “hot dish” for this morning’s meeting.

Results: I had several large mugs of coffee this morning, with no food to cushion the blow to my system, as I flung together random ingredients and made this:

Red pepper and goat cheese frittata. I think it looks good, but I also think my computer chair is softly bouncing as I type this. Or maybe it’s the computer screen. Bounce, bounce…

Gabe is dressed up for MOPS, for some reason. He wore a necktie last night for our church portraits (side note: it takes a special kind of optimism on a photographer’s part to push forward in trying to sell packages to couples who burst out laughing, harder and harder, with each take shown to them. “I look completely drugged!” “Sam looks like he’s about to barf!” “So…we can do twelve wallets, and a lovely eight-by-ten for you?”), and now he’s taken with the idea. Never mind that one doesn’t usually sport an ivory necktie with a long-sleeved tee-shirt; he thinks he looks “fancy.” Well, I suppose he does, at that.

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