We had a nice weekend. The bartender at our local grocery store/bar was super helpful in picking out some birthday present beers for Rudi on Friday night (it was luck that someone who knew Rudi’s taste was working the check stand when I stopped in), which I wrapped while he was out on a bike ride Saturday.

Rudi had requested scrambled eggs for his birthday breakfast, and I’d hoped to combine it with fresh sourdough bread. But I clearly did something wrong when assembling it in the breadmaker, because instead we had a sourdough brick. I mean it was tasty (particularly with jam), but it was impossibly chewy and dangerous to try to slice. I’m going to turn it into pain perdu (aka French toast) or maybe bread pudding. Anything that will soften it up.

We did some video chats with friends, ate Chinese takeout (the ginger snowpeas I added to the order were the surprise hit of the night), and Rudi blew out the candle on his homemade strawberry shortcake just before midnight.

This morning, I toured the farmers market, bringing home a variety of tasty spring things, including cream, strawberries, fiddleheads, and asparagus. Then I drank half a pot of tea and dozed all afternoon on the sofa. (I was pretending to read.) I managed to rouse myself in the evening to head to the garden, where I planted a few things, marveled at my six-foot-high pea vines (I also have pods, but they need a few days to fill out), and picked a bag full of arugula, kale, and spinach. We need to get back in the next day or so to get our garden snails drunk, so they leave our strawberries and spinach and basil alone. I checked in with my folks and with Grey Kitten and his husband and got in some walking. And I ended the evening by finishing my Veronica Speedwell novel while sipping on hot chocolate.

Five more days until a long weekend and the unofficial start to the summer. Remember way back in February when we thought it would be eons until our next official holiday? How right — and wrong — we were!