Salad of bitter, bed of sweet

Today I continued to clean, this time my closet, unearthing more treasures and discarding two additional bags of memorial detritus. I mean really, who needs a Vine Line circa 1993 (the monthly newspaper for Cubs' fans)? Despite my fan-atic ardor for Ryne Sandberg, I no longer feel the need to dedicate closet space to Street & Smiths, Sports Illustrateds and so forth. Not to mention seemingly every Daily Northwestern published between 1994 and 1998. After many hours, it seemed a positive idea to leave the house, and so Tom and I went to Top Five, the new Chris Rock movie (how charming is Chris Rock, I ask you?! Good film overall. Not great but entertaining. Rosario Dawson was quite good.) while my parents and the boys went to Night at the Museum 3.

Once home, I made a delicious salad comprised of various bitter elements. These appeal to me greatly, but T lacks the bitter-enjoying gene and ate a minimum of this beauty.

Endive, radicchio, pomelo, blood orange, goat cheese and a shallot-white balsamic vinaigrette. I thought it was the cat's meow, especially when paired with fresh bread and leftover barbecue shrimp.

The boys wandered in, happy but totally gaga, and we hurried them up to bed. Dad, aka Poppy, had promised that tonight would be the boys-in-a-bed slumber party, and look what I just found: precious!

I am certain that Dad's arm will not function tomorrow, AND I cannot believe (although I can) that Oliver insisted on and convinced the others that Cheetah and friend should join the bed. It's not that big!

Now off to bed with a marvelous rainstorm alternating between thump and pat outside.