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This weekend Big City Girl came for a visit, and while she was in town we both attended an engagement party for one of her best friends who is getting married next spring.  It was held in the yard at her parents' house, where there were tables and chairs set up, and a special rented table for the sandwiches and salads and wine with a recessed area for ice.  I had no idea such things existed, but it's good to know just in case Mr. Gadget and I are ever called upon to do a garden party.  Then again, I'm sure his woodworking table with a few of my craft crates filled with ice and covered with a tasteful tablecloth would do the trick, and for lots less moolah.

I had no idea what sort of a gift to take to such an occasion, and knowing that a wedding gift would also be required at a later date, I decided to go with something whimsical and cheap.  I've known this friend for a long time--partly because of the countless sleep-overs that took place in our basement over the years.  It didn't take me long to come up with a good idea.

As soon as we arrived I handed the gift to her, and suggested she open it quickly.  Like, right then.

Very soon she was overcome with glee. 

That's because I gave her two ziplocked-bags full of homemade burritos.
So much nicer, and much more delicious, than towels or butter dishes or cookie jars.  She could hardly contain herself.

Big City Girl stood on one side and I stood on the other, just to steady her and keep her from fainting away from excitement.

So while BCG was here, I took the opportunity to teach her a couple of important life lessons.  One was how to sew on a button.  "This is a good skill to know," I told her,"because you never want to lose your pants."

Next, I taught her how to get rid of the greasy water in a pan after you've boiled chicken.  "Put it in the fridge overnight," I instructed, "and in the morning the fat will be on top and you can easily scoop it out and put it in the garbage."  Then it occurred to me there was another, much easier option.

"Or, if you're not particularly fond of your neighbors," I added, "you could sneak out after dark and dump it on their rose bushes."