My wife is part Pac-Man.

We worked late last night and agreed on the way home that cooking in was simply not an option.  We dropped the pup off at home and popped down to Leisure Public House. As is often the case when pastrami is a menu item, I ordered and indulged.  Pastrami and I get along very well.  Bets had the Prosciutto with homemade fig jam.  And we had some tasty stouts.  And we had some soup.  And when we were full and happy, we had a rousing match of Ms. Pac-Man. I did not know this about my wife: she's a Pac-Man Wiz.  She sailed through the levels.  I'd wait for my turn and watch agape as she devoured those little dots.  We squealed together and shouted at the ghosts she squeaked past.  We laughed and high-fived.  It makes sense that she'd rock at Pac-Man.  It's chaos and order; high-stakes; rules and patterns.  She's good at those things.  And it was fun.  She's real good at fun. Today, we're getting ready for Crafty Wonderland (it's TOMORROW [5/7/11], Portland people! And we're going to have a great sale bin!), we're sending orders, sending samples to an exciting possible new account, crossing our fingers, finalizing some design choices on the new line,  eating the ghosts we can get to, and devouring all those little dots.  One level at a time. High-five. ***Song of the Moment: 1000 Miles Per Hour, by OK Go***
Group 7