My French press during its 15 minutes...
My dad came up to Kansas City on Friday to help my uncle move. Because they worked well into the evening I made him spaghetti with meat sauce (with tomatoes and bison beef from my CSA, of course) and he stayed the night, even though there was a comedy show happening in my dining room (literally, not a dinner gone awry or anything).
As any good daughter who has a memory foam mattress and a dad with a creaky old back would do, I gave my him my bedroom and slept on the couch (the comedians were in my guest room).
Like me, my dad is a coffee drinker (and peanut butter addict). Unlike me, he is an early riser. But on Saturday morning I, too, woke early… to the saddest sound ever. Read the rest of this entry »
