I think the lows of this week are best summarized by the following two conversations with my husband.

H: “You know that zucchini you bought?”

Me: “Yes?”

H: “It was a cucumber.”

Me: “Oh.”

H: “And it was rotten.”

*****

Me: (Multiple times over the past 3 months, sweating profusely) “I hate this stroller. It’s so effing hard to turn.”

H: (Two days ago) “Did you know the front brakes are on?”

******

So, yeah.

On the upside, my husband overcooked pork chops when we had a friend over for dinner on Sunday. Very unlike him. This was not my ‘high’ – that would just be mean – but it further boosted my confidence when I then made pork chops two days later that were quite good.

Please overlook the fact that my food photos always look disgusting due to both my poor presentation/cooking skills, and poor photography. Some day I will learn how to properly use my camera in bad lighting.

Regardless, even the hubs agreed those chops were well done – and well seasoned with a yummy sauce! And not that it’s a competition…BUT if it was…well, I would’ve won on pork this week. Booyah. Hit.

Also a bonus – that was the first time I used the cast iron skillet since we got it for our wedding 6 years ago. I admit I have had no freaking clue what that thing was for.

I also made a decent lemon chicken piccata this week, despite nearly losing all of the sauce when I left it boiling too long. I wish recipes would be more specific and tell me exactly which number on the stovetop dial I should use vs. terms like “simmer.” I rarely get it right. I turned my back for two minutes and suddenly there was nothing left in the sauce pan but crispy lemons. SON OF A.

I managed to salvage it by dumping in more broth and redoing a few steps, but I’m sure we ingested the equivalent of at least one cigarette since I didn’t scrape out the burnt scraps first. Still a hit. Here are some of the remnants in the shower.

But the high that pleased me the most this week was the discovery of a sock I’ve been missing for months. I have 3 favorite pairs of socks. This is one of them.

Needless to say with such a low inventory of quality socks, it makes a dent went one goes missing. I assumed my sister took it home when she borrowed them at Christmas, because I like to blame her for things unfairly. But alas – it was tucked inside a pair of pants.

Paul and I are thrilled at this reunion.