Winter was pretty harsh on my favorite terra cotta container that houses our French Thyme. It was very decorative, very French, but now sits in shambles at the edge of our deck where I moved it before the snows to shelter it with the roof overhang.

The gray returned. Spring sure was nice this year…on the bright side, I had lunch with my old colleague Randy. We sat in the big windows at Lucky Pho and were joined part way through by Stacey, a current colleague, and her husband.

This is the well-worn path the Baron takes to circumnavigate the yard on his patrol, several times a day. Now that it’s less miserable outside, all of the yard & gardening needs are coming into focus…

My friend Traca invited me to a gathering held at Stumptown tonight. Her idea: bring a dish that means something to you. I brought something my mother made for years for social gatherings: Dee’s Cheese Ball. It looks like a perfectly classic midwestern potluck dish, with minor updates here and there for the Southern palate. I found myself thinking about it a few weeks ago, and Traca’s invite offered the perfect chance to recreate.

As I was rushing from work to the gathering, I neglected to take a picture of my offering in its pecan-domed glory. But, here’s a treated scored for take-home after most of the guests left, brought by someone who works at this bakery.

We brunched with Celeste & Ian in Ballard and later spent most of the afternoon around the house. I took advantage of the beautiful weather & fully enjoyed it.

Later, I ran 9 miles. A simple & great day, overall.

I don’t know about you, but this week’s only reinforced that it’s been A LONG WINTER. Even if I hadn’t felt that way until March.

Fortunately the sun came out late afternoon, giving hope. Also in time to help us get geared up to head out to celebrate a friend’s birthday in Belltown.

With the immediate needs handled, we’re getting back into it.

The Baron has turned on sullen mode for the last two days since we’ve been back. I figure he’s either displeased with the weather or misses his lady-friend he stayed with during our trip to New Orleans. I bet they shared a plate of spaghetti.

The strangely cold wet snap is sapping desires to photograph. You know, I have a feeling it’s been dragging me all month as I have a disproportionate number of phone pictures. Nevertheless, we’ll move right along…

I get cranky about April Fool’s Day, annually. I brace myself, even ponder avoiding Internetland save for Google’s main prank. Today I just kept running across things here and there that made me laugh. My favorite: the BBC’s 1957 Swiss Spaghetti Harvest. I may have to revise my stance.

Around 3 PM, I was talking to my old pal Tucker about Puerto Vallarta & noticed this cake. It seemed evenly frosted but I thought “red flag! It’s April 1!” So we continued to chitchat and someone came along wanting to try it. Turns out it was a tarted-up box that the knife couldn’t pierce. I laughed anyway. When I left later, I laughed again and realized it merited a memory of the day.