A Heart Warming Story, or how I ended up in my panties at 3 am with cops in my backyard on Valentine's Day.
As it turned out, a good friend of mine (we'll call him MC Flatbread) whom I'd never really hung out with outside of the yacht club (we're both avid sailors) ended up coming over for dinner. I had a big question mark in my head about what this meant. Mostly it was a convenient night for both of us, so I wasn't too worried about the whole "Valentiney-ness" of the evening, and prepared a fabulous dinner of cracked crab and caesar salad. We opened (and drank) two bottles of fabulous wine from Goosecross Cellars (the Viognier is divine, as is the Chardonnay). It was wonderful to get to know Flatbread outside of the yacht club, and as it turned out he's quite a multi faceted individual and we had a great time.
He ended up leaving at 3:00 in the morning! Keep in mind, dear readers, that this wasn't really a date. There was no kissing, there were candles, and I did have my feet tucked under his leg at some point during the evening. It was just a nice way to spend Valentine's Day with a friend and neighbor.
So, I have a mild heat on (and the way I feel today as I write this, I have a feeling that it may have been more than just a mild heat), and it's 3:10 am, and he's just left. I am toasting a piece of the garlic bread that I made, and as it pops in the toaster, Tess (my dog) barks. I thought she was barking at the sound of the toaster, so I look down at her and shush her. Please picture in your minds, dear readers, me, standing in my studio apartment that is all windows (great view of Golden Gate) in my underwear eating toast. Got that lovely (scary) picture??
I look up, through the sliding glass door and there are two men with flashlights in my very private patio.
Thanks to the buzz I'm rockin', I'm not alarmed. Thanks to my motion sensor lights, I can clearly see that they are police officers.
Now I'm alarmed. And in my panties.
The thought actually crosses my mind that cops are used to seeing people in various states of dress (but keep in mind that we're not in a trailer park in Bumfuck, Arkansas, and this is not being filmed for Cops), so calmly, I put on the jeans I just shed and go outside.
"Yes. We did." They march past me, clearly annoyed that they had been roused from their compelling game of dominoes or CHiPs reruns at 3:00 in the morning. They radioed in that it was a multi-family residence, and that one of the tenant's boyfriend had just left. BOYFRIEND? I considered correcting him, but then thought better of it.
In other news, I cruised over to on Crazy Aunt Purl and Crochet Dude's recommendation and found this DEEE-FREAKING-LICIOUS handpainted Misti Alpaca.
Not that I need a good reason to buy Misti Alpaca, but the reason you'll find here will make your heart melt! Go! Shop!!
I can't wait to take it on my trip to Italy and knit myself a very cozy scarf to wear with my darling Roman Romeo when I see him on the 26th!!
Have we not discussed my Roman Romeo?
Hm...I may have to fill you in on the deets to keep you with something while I'm gone til the 1st.