Pears!

Dear Pears of the World,

Can we talk? I really like you. I do. I LOVE when you’re nice and ripe and juicy – you’re so sweet and succulent. Eating you is just a pleasure. A real delight. And I really appreciate that. Here’s the thing though. I feel like you guys are NEVER ripe. Why is this? Is it something I’m doing wrong? If that’s the case, I’d really like to help. Please. Just let me know what to do. I think you’re so great, but I can’t handle being continually disappointed by you. I try to be really picky about selecting you at the grocery store. And yet, even when you feel sufficiently squishy to the touch, I get you home , take a bite, and blech! It’s like chewing on a cold potato. I just want to feel your juices running down my arm again. Maybe I should order you from Harry and David? That seems awfully expensive, you guys. Would putting you in a brown paper bag on the counter help? Is that a real thing? I feel like I’m grasping at straws here, pears, but I really want it to work out between us. And, you know, if you have any problems with me, let me know.

Much love,
Tristan

Heavy!

Oh, hello blog. It’s been a while. And by while, I mean over a year. Whatever.

Lots has happened. So much so that I think I’ll just pretend it didn’t and carry on as I would if there hadn't been a break. Take that, internet.

This weekend was super-fun. On Friday, Molly, her sister Kelly, Chris and I went to the White Sox game. Molly and Kelly are big White Sox fans – Chris and I like beer and nachos. The Sox lost, but beer, funnel cake, nachos, fries, peanuts, and hot dogs won. Like they always do. AND we got free hats. So, yeah. Basically everyone but the White Sox won.

Saturday was spent anticipating the Enchantment Under the Sea Dance, which pH was putting on as a fundraiser. The Enchantment Under the Sea Dance, in case you hate excellent movies, is the prom in Back to the Future. So people were to come as characters from the movie, or just in 50’s prom clothes. (Or, in most of the boys’ cases, greasers.) Chris and I found a perfect white dinner jacket and bow tie for his George McFly outfit, and I appropriatized (not a word) a dress I’ve had for years by throwing a crinoline under it. I would like you to know, people, that we were SUPER-CUTE. There was a live band at the dance that did oldies covers, (including, of course, Johnny B. Goode and Earth Angel) and we had a pretty dead-on Marty and Doc. So much fun.

This one weird lady was INFATUATED with Chris. She seemed to think it was okay to hit on him while he was holding my hand. Apparently is was okay, because I just kind of looked at her. It was too weird for me to care. When we were leaving, she was outside on her cell and grabbed his arm and told the person on the phone that there was a 50’s dance, and this guy had a white dinner jacket and he was amazing.

I guess betraying my New England sports roots on Friday wasn’t enough for me, so on Sunday, I accompanied Chris to Durkin’s, a big-time Steelers bar. There were so many people in Steelers jerseys there! I didn’t know that many fans existed in Chicago! Is there a Patriots bar somewhere? Probably not. Or if there is, they probably have to station security outside to protect you from the fans of every other football team ever.

Then we went home and made mushroom soup, as the inaugural entry in our Souper Sunday Fall and Winter Soup-a-thon. (Working title.) It was most excellent, despite not being blended properly due to a food processor accident, which covered Chicago in mushrooms.