P.S. I hate that phrase. Never let me use it again.
So a lot of times on this blog when I can not think of post ideas, I turn to Ryan, who though it probably wishes it were not so, remains my font of inspiration. Sometimes I can come up with an idea just by gazing at the form of my topless husband as he lounges on his hammock and mists himself gently with hose water, shorts hiked up to expose milky sun-starved thighs. Other times I need to say, "Ryan give me something to write about."
At which point he'll usually peel one eyelid back and do this odd cyclops glare thing that he has mastered and that I can not replicate no matter how many of my insomniac hours I spend making ogre faces in the bathroom mirror and say something inane and unhelpful like, "Are those my pants?"
Yesterday his response was, "Get me some salsa, wench."
So I was about to get huffy and affronted and never bring him salsa again for as long as we both shall live.
But then I thought about it and realized that the traitorous baby also thought that salsa sounded delicious at that moment so I decided to go ahead and make some... But not just any salsa...the best salsa in the whole entire world.
1 1/2 - 2 cups Cherry Tomatoes, quartered
1/3 cup Red Onion, diced
Half an avocado, diced
1 TBS cilantro, chopped
1 1/2 TBS Sriracha
2 tsp Lemon Juice
1/2 tsp Fish Sauce
Then mix all of that shit together and eat it with a spoon or put it on pork or chicken or use it on a salad instead of dressing. Or blend it up a bit and attack it with a handful of shrimps.
Or just eat it at the counter with tortilla chips while singing I put my hand upon a chip, then I dip, you dip, we dip to your unborn child. Whatever. I promise you'll love it.
Ryan was so pleased with this salsa that he patted my stomach, said "Good Baby" and then sprayed me with the hose a little. Rousing success.