Breaking the Fall

On Wednesday after Gymboree, Jackson and I had lunch at Anamia's with Sunni and Ava. We had a cool front earlier in the week and our weather has been spectacular. It was so beautiful that we could not pass up sitting on the patio. Bonus: there was no one else on the patio, so the babies could be babies with little consequence. Right? We ordered a massive bowl of guacamole, made table-side. They had great iced tea. I ignored the salsa because of the guac, so I can't comment on that. We sat at a little metal table under an umbrella. Ava and Jackson split a kids meal. A tex-mex feast shared outside with a friend and two cute babies? What more could you want?

(The patio. No, that's not us.)


(The guacamole. It's huge.)


Well, you could want more room on the table. Things were a little crowded since we had to keep everything out of the babies' reach that we didn't want to tumble to the ground. Jackson began banging the table with his hands. And then. And then the container of ranch dressing that came with Sunni's taco salad, that was forced dangerously close to the edge of the table, took a tumble. Don't feel sorry for the ranch dressing container. It did not smack the concrete with great force and shatter into pieces. No, a certain beloved Coach purse caught it's fall. What is more, it was not even mine. It Sunni's beautiful khaki signature with red leather trim COACH purse. Not one of those small ones like I have either. The mothership of all gorgeous Coach bags it was. When she got it, I believe for her birthday, you should have heard all the carrying on we did. It elicited praises to God from our lips. It is fabulous in every sense of the word.

Help. Me. Lord. Our groans reached into the heavens. The Coach. The ranch was within and without. Every side sustained damage from the mayonnaise-based goop. We wiped it all off and there were some large, sad dark spots that I'm not sure have disappeared or not. Sunni was incredibly gracious about the whole thing. She never for a moment let me blame Jackson, and therefore myself. But still, in my heart I know. Thankfully we were only a mile away from a Coach store and professional cleaning supplies were easily accessible. The purse practically had an ambulance ride to the Coach E.R. It was a good thing because in a couple hours, all that mayo was gonna be lethal.