7:25 amAnniversary… Continued
In completely NOT keeping with the tradition of the “leather year” (but thank you for all of your fabulous leather gift ideas), I got my husband something plastic, kitschy, and radical. Perhaps you’ve seen the commercial for the Perfect Pushup, or perhaps you haven’t. Maybe the Perfect Pushup is one of those commercials you channel-flip through. But when I saw it a few months back, I knew that my husband had to have this revolutionary product. You see, Jon does a ton of sit-ups and push-ups every single night before bed, and frankly regular push-ups seem too easy for him and his buff guns as of late. So when I couldn’t really think of anything classy and leathery, I went directly to Amazon and ordered the Perfect Pushup. It arrived Tuesday, and Zoe and I tried them out. I did one push-up and fell over. And I’m not kidding. Zoe did about five or six. But in my defense, her push-up form was pretty crappy, and I was all trying to keep my butt down and back straight like a board, grasshopper. Anyhoo… I presented the Perfect Pushup to Jon yesterday when he got home work. At first he kind of gave me that look like great, you ordered something else from an infomercial… I told you to stop doing that. But I told him how it had great customer reviews on Amazon, and how when I tried it I could only do one, at which point he gave me another look that said well, that’s because you’re a pansy. But then he tried it, and he caught the vision. It’s freakin hard, dude.
Here’s a short video tutorial that we made last night with the kids demonstrating the Perfect Pushup. Ignore the fact that they are wearing bright, festively colored witch hats. (The hats I bought yesterday for Diana and I to wear to “Witchapalooza” on Saturday. Hey Diana: make your colored hat choice now!)
(Jon is the one who pointed out to Jachin that the push-up things resemble the paddles of a cardio resuscitator.)
Jon, very much in keeping with the spirit of the “leather year”, bought me a sweet new bag. It’s brown, and perfect, and has just the right number of compartments for all of my crap… err, I mean, “daily necessities”. He then told me the cute story of going out shopping with Zoe to pick out my bag. They went to Macy’s. Zoe noticed that items with a red tag meant that they were on sale. So Jon told her to look around for purses with a red tag at which point Zoe found a certain purse with a red tag, read it, and announced loudly “What? This purse is $119 on sale! These are the sale prices?!?” (You can tell that we are used to the cheap-o prices of Target.) She then proceeded to go around to each and every purse, shouting out the indignity of it’s price. The sales chick wasn’t amused. But Jon was. They finally decided on an outrageously priced Fossil bag; the one I spoke of earlier.
Last night Jon and I — both smartly dressed and sporting buff guns, because, y’know, I did one push-up and all – headed to Salt Lake to eat dinner at Fleming’s. It was the first time we’d been there, but it came highly recommended by some friends. It was fandamntastic. We had some crab cakes (which I love, love, love) that almost made me cry, and I normally don’t get that way over food. I mean, I’m the person who thinks movie theater nachos are fine cuisine… especially if you happen upon a theater that puts jalapenos in the cheese. Jon had some tender, juicy slaughtered baby lamb… err, I mean “fillet mignon”. He gave me a bite and I felt the slightest twinge of guilt about eating a baby lamb before thinking Holy crap, that’s tender!! I had some crab and shrimp scampi. For dessert we had creme brule and chocolate lava cake. The molten core burnt my tongue… oh, the sweet, sweet pain.
Here we are in a self-taken pic because I chickened out when attempting to ask the waitress to take our picture. (Hello, it’s a fancy restaurant! They don’t DO picture-taking.)
