Yesterday I learned that Dr. Fiancé doesn’t mind the taste of lemon curd so much as the name of the stuff. “Unless you’re referring to the Kurdish people, I don’t like the word,” he explained. “So if we tell people our wedding cake contains layers of, say, lemon Iraqi, you’d go with that cake?” I mocked—unsuccessfully.
My mom is flying in today from Iowa for a weekend visit. We’re supposed to be doing wedding planning stuff while Dr. Fiancé’s out of town, but I confess I’m not in the mood.
Though I probably could be talked into shopping for shoes.
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