Button, button, who's got the button?

Went to lunch with my gal pals and wore a new pair of linen slacks. The waistband had two buttons, one on the inside and one on the outside. Apparently, the inside button is called a French bearer - something I just learned.

Anyway, I was looking sharp.

But, when I went to the restroom later, I found the inside button was missing - the French button could bear it no longer. I glanced around the floor of the bathroom but didn't see the button and wondered where I could have lost it. I had only dressed a short while earlier and drove the restaurant. Maybe when I got in or out of the car? No matter. I still had the outer button.

When I got home after lunch, again I had need to go to the bathroom. This time, as I pulled up my pants I heard the button fall out of the leg of my pants. The question was, where was it all this time? Stuck to my navel? A mystery....

The mystery now is where did I put that button now? I still have a pair of pants missing its French bearer. If I lose the remaining button, I'll not only be out of a French bearer but I myself will be bare.

Très embarrassant!

Brought to you by Christopher Kimball and your local library.

 

Delicious!

This is Umbrian-Style Chicken alla Cacciatora from Milk Street Tuesday Nights Mediterranean by Christopher Kimball. You can find it at the link from Amazon. 

I found it at my local library. 

Stars Matter

I had a dentist appointment on Monday and before I went in, I flossed my teeth. It's sort of like cleaning the house before the housecleaner arrives. But I got chastised last time. The hygienist said she picked meat out of my teeth!

It wasn't meat. It was oatmeal which is what I ate for breakfast that morning. I had brushed my teeth before going but, apparently, I didn't get it all. I could have flossed but I figured she was going to do it less than an hour later so I didn't. I didn't see the sense in torturing my gums twice in rapid succession when it wasn't, in my opinion, necessary.

This time, I brushed, flossed, and used mouthwash before heading to the dentist.

This time, I got praised for my dental hygiene. "Gold star!" they exclaimed.

Why does it still matters to me that I get a good report from my dentist?

Must be the stars.