ode to my husband

If Pete ever wanted to (PLEASE!!) stop practicing medicine he could easily be the hottest Barista at Starbucks--okay the dude makes good coffee. (he pours a mean Black & Tan also). Except for the occasional weekend when I pull the bean canister down on my head and spill beans across the kitchen in a not so subtle ploy to arouse him from his Sunday morning slumber, he makes the first pot of coffee everyday. For this alone I would follow him off the edge of the Knowne Worlde. I can stumble from the bed to a perfectly timed mug of java just waiting for me. He is a good man. I found this image a couple of days ago and finally can use it to pay due homage to my lord husband, grinder of beans.

and what dear reader goes better with coffee than a nummy "everything" bagel? We had a stunningly beautiful house guest this weekend--a duchess I have admired for several years, and she joined me in my happy husband praising. For as I excavated the kitchen from under the mountain of post party debris he zipped off to Zingerman's and fetched home a couple dozen bagels. I told ya he is a keeper. So by the time our "graceful" friends all descend from their crash spaces there was coffee and bagels and juice where previously there was only the remnants of the Guinness VS Cider Bottle Battle... said hottie houseguest was ecstatic--apparently in her neighborhood they have no bagels. She had partaken of the Z. place on previous occasions and was pleased to see the spread. Point for Petey!!